While the Blade Rusts
by notnow
Summary: [Multichap IchixRuki] She gives up immortality. He turns in his blade. She wasn’t the type to get married and neither was he, but sometimes people make choices that are out of character. How does Rukia adjust and Ichigo protect?
1. Places and Boundaries

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach but I do own this story.

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**While the Blade Rusts **by notnow

Ch 1. Places and Boundaries

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The precipitant season starts again—but for today, at least, only the smell of rain hangs in the air.

"You've changed."

Two words and one contraction in between. It's simple, yet effective enough to make her pause and absentmindedly touch the ends of dark hair resting below her bosom's curve. The glossy black strands lay sleek against her with the weight of its length. Already, three years have passed since her last duties as a Shinigami, one who hunted Hollows in a practically timeless adolescent body. For a faux human shell she traded, to live permanently as an ephemeral. Though three years it may be, an aging gigai still takes time getting used to—or rather—it is aging she is getting used to. No matter how many times she glimpses herself in the mirror, the reflections never cease to surprise her. New contours and curves now replace the boyish attributes on her petite frame. So much has changed; it is apparent without her old childhood friend telling her so.

"Renji? Wha—"

"What am I doing here? Visiting. You expect a captain to work all the time?"

Her face relaxes with a smile. "I see." So he has become a captain. Rukia looks at him for a little longer, before adding, "On the other hand, you haven't changed much. You're still boastful and sport the same impossible eyebrows."

He scowls in return. "Always looking for an opportunity to mock me, aye?" Turning to the side, he folds his arms across his chest. It's hard to look at her. Changes in her appearance, he had anticipated, but there is a new sharpness in her visage that he hadn't come to expect. Neither did he expect to see dullness partially clouding her once bright, sapphire eyes. The changes are well beyond physical; he does not like it.

Not that he'd voice it out loud. He has adopted a bit of sensibility these past few years. "So anyway, how are things? Apparently, you've turned a little domestic," he says without looking at her (but sensibility doesn't always help him pick out the best words).

Rukia glances down at the grocery bags she holds in one hand. The plastic crinkles under the tight grip that turns her knuckles white. What is it she feels now? Nostalgia? Embarrassment? She wonders how one can muddle two completely unrelated feelings.

Before more can be said, shrill beeping slices the quiet air around them. Renji plunges a calloused hand through his black kimono's opening, digging out the source of disturbance. "What? You've got to be kiddin' me," he exclaims after one glance at the small device.

"New orders?"

"So you do remember a thing or two about Soul Society?" Seeing she isn't amused, he answers straight to the point, "Was an unexpected call. I barely step out and they need me already. Che! Guess I won't be seeing you for awhile."

She faintly nods in understanding.

"Well then, take care." He inserts his soul cutter, a sword strangely resembling steel spinal cord, into empty space and a white papered door appears. He turns his head back—just slightly—before the thin parchment slides open and rattles in its wooden frame. She watches Renji as he steps over the same boundary she can no longer cross, disappearing into the vast world behind it, the one she is shut out of.

* * *

She wasn't the type to settle down. Not the type to get married. Neither was he, or at least not at that age. But sometimes people make choices that are out of character.

From the doorway she sees him hunched over a child. She approaches him quietly, watching as he tends to the young patient's knee. Seeing nothing but the back of his head and his warm orange hair, which glows both brilliant and soft against the fading light of day, she muses on how he must be frowning as he works, that same deep crease forming in the middle of his forehead.

Upon noticing her presence in the clinic, the boy marvels at Rukia with doe-like eyes. "Sensei? Who's that pretty onee-san? Is she your wife?"

After one glance behind him, Ichigo turns back to the boy and thrusts a thumb over his own shoulder, pointing towards the only other person in the clinic. "You mean the short, scary looking one behind me?" The remark earns him a bump on the head.

"See what I mean about scary? Is why I'm telling you now, don't ever get married. Ignore how pretty they are. The prettier, the meaner—or in this case, the shorter the meaner." Ichigo flinches when he hears the slightest shuffle Rukia makes behind him.

Questioningly, the child looks at him. "I don't understand."

Ichigo shakes his orange head in resignation. "Never mind, it'll be a few more years before you can understand. But probably be too late by then," the young stand-in doctor says forebodingly.

"You say some strange things, Sensei." The boy stops for a moment to ponder at the ground. When he looks back up at Ichigo, he points towards his doctor's head. "Ahh! Sensei needs a bandage too!" he beams.

Grabbing the bandage from his little patient's hand, Ichigo retorts, "Worry about your own cuts and scrapes, shorty."

* * *

"Bye bye; I'll see you later."

"You better not, shorty. That body of yours may be small, but it uses up enough gauze to put us out of business. So stay out of trouble, understand?"

"Understood! Bye bye!" The boy grins widely at his mother, who has recently arrived. He proudly shows her the bandaged knee as if it were a trophy.

The couple responds in contrasting ways, Ichigo's sighs meeting with Rukia's smile. "Last one?" she asks.

"Yup. Closing time."

"Good. I'm starving."

"Good—my ass. You mean to say that I have to cook." He gives out an exaggerated sigh. "Poor Ichigo. Laboring in the clinic all alone 'cause his old man ran off to some hot spring. Then he comes home to slave away in the kitchen. What a thoughtful family he has! None of them understands the concept of rest."

"Geez, if you're that tired, why don't we just go out to eat?"

"'Why don't we just go out to eat' she asks. Is this Ichigo person made of money?"

"You sound like an old man." He deadpans her. "What? Do you want me to cook then?" she challenges.

That last statement cause two scenarios to play out in his mind. One: The house burns down. Two: He spends the next couple of days with a bottle of antacid glued to his fingers. "Never mind. I'll cook." The only choice, really. Save money, save house and save stomache.

* * *

She jumps off the mattress and picks up her crumpled pajamas off the ground by the side of the bed. He had tossed it there, next to the horror manga he snatched out of her hands earlier (the manga he flung rather than tossed). "Where the hell you going?" he asks grimly when she proceeds towards their bathroom.

"Where do you think? I want to wash up and brush my teeth. Why do you look so threatened?" Rukia doesn't hide the smirk from her face at all.

Ichigo eyes her skeptically with one brow raised. "You better not come out with that stupid cream." Last time she did, he found—no—_felt_ acidic sludge melting his face off. _'For de-wrinkling,'_ the she-devil had claimed, while jabbing her index finger at the deep crease on his forehead. _'Because you frown too much.'_ A load of crap. It was really for pestering purposes; Rukia thoroughly enjoyed irritating him.

"Keep frowning and maybe I'll bring it out."

"Keep being funny and you'll be applying it to my footmark on your butt." She doesn't hear it; the bathroom door has already slammed shut.

When she passes by the mirror she catches sight of her flushed face and the faint red marks above her breast. She reddens further, blushing with the intensity of a bride.

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"Oi! Ichigo!" Her tiny hands shake his shoulders fiercely, jerking Ichigo from his much needed sleep.

"What do you want?"

"Go put some clothes on."

"So annoying."

"You're gonna catch a cold if you sleep bare."

"Let me sleep already. I'm tired," the grown man whines.

"How can you be that tired?"

"I'm old." It comes out muffled through the pillow.

"Ridiculous! You're only nineteen, Ichigo."

"Cuz of you. You quadrupled my age." He receives a repeated whacking from an oversized pillow.

"Kay okay, I got it. Geeez…" Ichigo staggers out of bed, both disgruntled and heavy footed.

"Hurry up."

He grunts as he grabs a new tee-shirt and pair of shorts from the drawer. "See what I mean? Putting up with this kind of stuff. I live a hard life now because of you."

"Good," she says satisfactorily as she eyes him, now fully clothed, climbing back into bed.

"'Good,' the she-devil says." Before Rukia can remark about his new habit of speaking in third person, he mumbles something incoherent and snores away.

"Brat." She pulls the thick, ecru, daisy patterned blanket (a small sacrifice for Ichigo to make, upon finding floral less emasculating than Chappy) closer to her husband's body. It is forecasted to rain with an expected drop in temperature.

A sick patient couldn't be looked after by a sick doctor, after all.

Lying down next to him, she waits for slumber to take over her body too, but her mind is restless for a bit. A small shower begins to fall outside when she starts recounting facts. _About four years since it all began. Three of them (roughly) spent inhabiting a new gigai. And two months passed in marriage._ She lulls herself to sleep thinking about her progress in adapting to what Ichigo calls, a "normal life." A normal life without all that "Shinigami business."

On the other side of the bed, Ichigo dreams.

_Release the grip on the hilt. It's okay for the blade to get rusty. There is nothing more to defend against._

_End Chapter One

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_AN: Thanks for reading this far! As far as updates, I'll try to do one at least every 2-4 weeks... Please review! Flames accepted if constructive (in other words, helpful not hateful). _

_Oct 16, 2005---Revised & Reposted_


	2. Rust Begins with Rain

Ch 2. Rust Begins with Rain

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_In that dreaming world of his, Ichigo sees a familiar scene. _

He was fighting with much difficulty as the shades of night fell all around him.

Granted, there were three of them, but they were nothing special, not the evolved, upgraded, hybridized species he had fought months before. They weren't even Menos. Nothing but plain old Hollows. And puny too.

He lashed wildly and struck aimlessly, the blade of his Zanpakutou dully cutting dense gray air. And then it began to rain, like it always would; it always seemed to rain at times like these, like the commencement of the familiar beat, a themed soundtrack to the hero igniting a fight.

Ichigo surely was no hero, but this certainly was his soundtrack, his theme. The rain, that is.

It started off as a pitter patter, and then increased, violently beating down like stones. Though an abundance of red streamed off the frayed ends of his shredded black kimono, his blood continued to enrobe his body like rust on an old, corroded ship. The bruises throbbed incessantly and his gashes scorched and chewed at him beneath his tattered clothes. As the hollows' attacks continued to rupture his body, her echoing words eroded at his heart.

Her stubborn resolve pained him more than the assaults of the enemies connecting.

With frenzied swings to the left and right, sometimes bringing the blade to a deafening clatter against the ground, he thought nothing of the targets, but absorbed his mind completely with her.

"_Our different worlds separate us. But that is where we belong, respectively. I hope you know I will remember you well—despite the distance."_

No good, he thought. Too distracted. His self-reminders, at self-preservation came out frittered. And though Zangetsu cried to him, his voice drowned beneath Rukia's departing words. The sword begged him to anticipate the next blow, and like the rest of his pleas, it rang out lost.

Ichigo hardly reacted when his nerves were jarred by the slash of claws at his back. And before he could decide upon the kind of pain he felt, he was colliding with the ground, suffering a dozen skin skimming revolutions before finally landing on his lacerated back. A kick, it seemed, came next. Possibly to the gut. He was not sure.

"He he he! Bratty Shinigami, you're much too easy. Where's your mind at?"

Another one piped in, "Are you fighting us both blind and deaf?"

"Oii, orange headed boy, are you love-struck, dumb or defeated? This ain't fun! Why don't we make a meal of you already?" heckled the third one.

A mistake. And it wasn't Ichigo's mistake.

Only a second after that last one spoke, did its body violently split into two, with its unnaturally colored blood spraying everywhere. Just like that, fury surged through Ichigo's veins, annihilating everything else, the pain, the despair, all of it, replaced entirely with pure animosity. "SHUT THE HELL UP YOU PIECES OF TRASH!"He hacked away at the second one, sometimes missing, sometimes connecting. And when he made contact, pieces of the Hollow came spewing out in the air. Ichigo stalked forward, crimson liquid forming rivulets off the sides of his face. The birdlike Hollow cowered off; it shrieked when the blade sliced off the last of its colossal talons. Its dismembered part flew past the shinigami's orange head. It wailed its last objection when the steel pierced through its mask and skull.

But Ichigo wasn't done. He continued to chop and cleave at the dissipating corpse. "WHAT DOES IT MATTER THAT YOU WILL REMEMBER ME WELL? WHEN I WILL LIVE MISERABLY HERE AND YOU OVER THERE? WHAT DOES IT MATTER? TELL ME, GODDAMMIT RUKIA! CAN'T WE BE SELFISH FOR ONCE?"The pelting rain answered him.

So did the third Hollow.

It was in an instant; he only had time to shift a little to his left, and the sharpness penetrated him, through muscle and sinew. He glanced at the object that protruded out to the right of his heart. He couldn't discern it for what it was: a Hollow's tail.

"Did you forget about me, kid? Now stay still, so I won't miss a second time."

His entire torso felt ripped, as the tail sharply withdrew. An ocean of red sprayed out. The bend of his knee came down, crashing onto concrete. The cold steel of Zangetsu's hilt remained tight in his grip, but he was rendered immobile, the tip of his blade impaling nothing but the ground. Ichigo could do nothing but await the second strike against him.

None came, but the screeching sound of metal against bone. Hollow bone.

In an instant, wet, sludgy matter sputtered across his backside.

His pain began to subside, and his mind started to clear—as clear it could possibly be with his body draining itself of blood.

The hilt of his sword still supported his weight.

Through numbness, he turned himself around. Saw clear rain flowing off the edge of her thin Zanpakutou. Then his view blurred once again, having only one good eye to peer from while the other was battered shut. Be it rain, sweat or blood, cold liquid dripped into his better eye and stung like hell. Yet it was okay, as long as he could pry it open wide enough for a glance, to glimpse the traces of her petite figure moving towards him.

So that he could believe it. That she really was there.

"Fool, this is not like you at all. You fool." It came out more pleading than admonishing. "Look at you; you're all torn up." Really? Hadn't he heard that one before?

"You can. Complain. To me. All you want. Later." This was all too familiar. Perhaps they were following the same script, with the circumstances changed. His violent cough jerked his entire body and blood spouted from his mouth.

"Ichi—"

"You came back." He finally let go of Zangetsu and rested the back of his head in her lap.

"You're being so foolish. So foolish. This isn't you."

He still managed to laugh. "Guess not." The words didn't complete his thoughts. He wanted to add, 'Not myself, not without you,' but exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he was too self-conscious even. Even then. He wasn't one used to warm words after all. Not the softer words.

The coldness dissipated. Her body was the source of heat in all that coldness. Her warmth now enveloped him.

Before the last of his consciousness checked out, he thought he felt warm rain on his face, it flowing down to the corners of his lips and leaving a salty taste in his mouth.

And then the gray turned to black.

"_Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo."_

"_I'm listening, Zangetsu O'san."_

"_My job seems to be done, as well as yours."_

"_I'm sorry, O'san, please forgive my foolishness."_

"_As long as the rain stops falling, and it seems it has."_

"_Ah."_

"_It's okay to release your grip on the hilt. Let the blade rust a little. There is nothing more to defend against—at least for now."_

"_Ah. Farewell."_

"_Until then." The dark willowy figure walked off, the tail of his long coat billowing out. Halfway, the old man's silhouette paused for a moment and turned his head to the side. "Congratulations, Ichigo."_

"_Ah. Thank you." And he was gone.

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Day always looked better after the rain. Things glistened. Reflections danced.

The rays of sun beamed bright and clear through the openings of the charcoal gray in the sky. That's how he woke up, with a view of Rukia at the foot of his bed, bathing in the golden translucence, her simple white dress glowing in the light. She was gazing out the bedroom window, a somber expression gracing her face. He studied the long dark lashes that fluttered with each blink she took. They were delicate like the rest of her being.

Ichigo shifted to a sitting position on the bed. The sound of his stirring did nothing to move her, except for her to speak without looking at him. "The new gigai feels a bit strange." He was speechless as he tried to catch onto the meaning of her words. "I'll just have to—adapt. Still, such amazing things that 'sandal and hat' guy can create."

"Rukia—you…."

"I can no longer go back. So you better not regret it."

"I…" He trailed. "Ofcourse. Course not."

"Where will we begin?"

He took a moment before answering. "I'm not sure, but we'll start off slow."

_Ichigo pulls his wife into a tighter embrace, and dreams no more. Just imageless, restful slumber for now.

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Autumn Surroundings—Interlude

The world drips in citrus colors, its autumn patterns wildly sprawling over gray paved concrete. Rukia sits amidst the scenery, prim and proper on the park bench, with hands folded neatly in her lap, her feet dangling a short distance from the ground. She kicks out her untied leather boots, trying to catch the loose leaves tumbling by. They slip through the spaces between her shoes and skim by when she is too slow.

Answering her sighs of defeat, a leaf falls onto her lap, one in the shape of a star; it matches Ichigo's hair color exactly, in both tone and hue. She wonders whose wounds he is mending right now, and whether he is tired or alone.

She tilts her wrist and reads the time off of the oval shaped face of her watch. The archaic needles point to half past four (she found more style in it than something digital).

How strange it still feels, to have the hours of day strapped to her thin left wrist. None of it would have fazed her four years ago. Then, she had thought it was all temporary, playing mentor to a surrogate shinigami until she regained her powers back, even forgetting that Soul Society had yet to pardon her from her crimes.

The things she had to learn, the reading, writing and arithmetic, she took them all in stride amongst other things, thinking she would have to abandon them anyway. She would discard her human shell along with the human feelings it contained, she had thought. But who knew about the things to follow? Who knew she would become so attached to this world and the boy who lived in it? Who knew, just after finding a sense of place in Soul Society that the other realm would call out to her? A family was found in her nii-sama, and her friendship with Renji renewed. She had made peace with the Shiba family and with her own memory of Kaien in the rain. Who knew, after all of that, that she would respond to the call, sacrificing everything she had just gained?

For the second time in her life, she risked it all—this time trading complacency for a chance at a relationship, with all their feelings certain yet uncertain. She found herself inhabiting earth again, not as a visitor, but a permanent resident, and came to the conclusion that she obviously would need to learn more than just reading, writing and arithmetic.

And with this world's rapid motion of time, the boy grew into a man, and she into a woman. Their undefined relationship, no longer could remain so. They defined it with matrimony, and so Ichigo took on the role of husband and Rukia the role of wife.

She regrets none of it.

The newness of everything still slams her, with her four years experience only managing to chisel away at the outer layers. There are a lot of things to learn, though struggling, she can do nothing but try to catch up.

She had made several attempts to help out in the clinic, but along with learning everything else, the medical tools and instruments overwhelmed her. Besides, she really wasn't needed. Both Karin and Yuzu still come by to help Isshin and Ichigo after school.

Ichigo never complains. He doesn't pressure her to find a job, to take up housekeeping; he simply understands and gives her all the time she needs to find her place in this world, as long as she knows one place exists by his side. He does not mind her wandering around while he continues on with the family profession.

But today in particular, she has run out of places to see, run out of things to gaze at, and decides to sit from across the park and watch the children play.

She regrets none of it.

But it doesn't mean those gnawing feelings stopped. Feelings of incompetence still creep in as much as the insecurities continue to pervade her mind.

_End Chapter Two

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_AN: Sorry, my writing always deteriorates towards the end (evident in the first chap as well). By the time I get this far, I lose the patience to proofread. Anyhow, thanks for reading. Especially thanks for the feedback, because it's just so easy to be a silent reader (not that it's bad, but I would have no idea whether my writing really bores you or not). _

_--Oct 15, 2005_

**Akemi: **thnx for being to first to review. Really it was encouraging after seeing all these hits but no comments!

**Dark Grieveous: **I will try not to let you down. And thnx for your words of encouragement.

**Sousui: **Lol! I had a mad grin after reading your review, particularly about the "they are acting like old hags" remark. I will try my best at helping Ichigo & Rukia in finding happiness!

**amwonq88: **I was worried whether their words and gestures were believable or not. U made me feel relieved. About the dullness, I'm still not sure myself. Perhaps it is the perception Renji wants to see, and/or the insecurities Rukia feels from struggling to adapt to the newer world.

**Ori: **Thank you for such a compliment (er..I hope that was a compliment). It's always a writer's dream to have a distinguishable trait in the way he or she writes, isn't it?

**Chibi Dragon: **Sorry I didn't indicate what was my update schedule was. I have now added it to the end of last chapter. Hopefully between 2 weeks to a month. I'm glad to have caused someone to grin!

**bianca s: **eyes wide You know where I live? Well bring me some cookies or something XD. Really glad you liked it!

**ruukii: **yup, hubby and wife. But by no means is their marriage gonna be "normal." Those violent two….

**rukiaprincess: **It's really such a great compliment to hear that one's writing is unique, especially when I see all these great Bleach fanfics and feel like I can't measure up.

**hotaru: **I made your day? YAY! Because usually I don't feel like I ever accomplish anything important! Appreciate that you left a comment.

**Procrastinator-starting2moro: **Mmn..orange and black haired dumplings...Now I'll dream about that too….XD

**Danny-171984:** I'm really grateful to have a constructive reviewer like you. I know what you mean about how people change, I'm glad you pointed that out—it's just that I didn't want reveal it yet---because I'm evil and don't like to give away fluffy stuff so easily. Hopefully this 2nd chap didn't disappoint.


	3. Pink Lines & Looking Back Yet Again

Ch 3. Pink Lines, and Looking Back Yet Again

_AN: Warning! If you aren't up to date with the latest manga chaps then some details won't make sense, and if it does, then you've been spoiled!

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Her long auburn tresses manifest copper hues in departing sunlight. It sways against her backside as she treads the familiar roads leading towards Karakura suburbia. A middle-aged man and a youth step out of a closing bookshop ahead of her; the older man leers at her breasts and nudges the adolescent's side. Concluding they must be father and son, she pauses mid-step. The son has already taken more than a peek and now joins his old man in gawking.

Ogling women. Parent-child bonding. Surely a morbid combination.

She plants both feet firmly on the ground and gives them a firm look, her focus penetrating their bodies into enough discomfort that they shift their eyes down to stare at their polished shoes. She looks fixedly for a full minute before she turns to continue on her route.

The dissolving daylight guides her until she reaches the residential area of town. The last rays die beneath gray clouds and the streetlights flicker on before the sky completely darkens. With impeccably good timing, she whips out the champagne colored umbrella and raises it above her head just as the first raindrop bounces off the vinyl. In her quickened pace, the hem of her floral patterned skirt swooshes against her ankles.

Nostalgia floods her as the rain begins to flood the streets.

She can't help but stop again, a few houses away from her appointed destination, in front of the old clinic where her brother breathed his last and where the boy she had pined over used to live.

In fact, the small ache remains.

And quite possibly, she still loves him.

In one instance, though brief and fleeting, Inoue Orihime had thought her feelings were reciprocated.

Come to think of it, sudden and merciless rain poured that night too.

_Rain was getting into her eyes but she saw clearly enough to assess the situation. A strong enemy had her pinned. Far away, Kuchiki-san who lay in a heap of shattered ice, her sword's transformation broken, was held captive by a foe of her own. And Kurosaki-kun, with that weary look plastered on his usually confident face, stood torn in the middle. _

_Who would he save first, knowing each girl was equally close to that final blow? _

_Of course, she thought, of course he would save Kuchiki-san first. Orihime didn't mind it really. It was expected. She was a comrade while Kuchiki-san was something different. Something more substantial. _

_Kuchiki-san was the one who changed his world. _

_Powers collapsed, back against the wall, she dropped her hand off of her bloody left shoulder. Both arms hung limply by her sides and cold rainwater trickled down, mixing with the warmth of her blood. Resolve slowly overcame her and the pains were no more. _

_She was watching the enemy's sword coming down at her now---its blade lustrous as it hit a particular angle in the moonlight. She would accept her death now, without trembling, knowing she gave it the good fight and that she wasn't dying in vain. _

_Softly, she closed her eyes. _

_She heard the thousand drops of rain fall around her. She heard the howls of the wind. _

_And she heard the rustling of wet cloth before her. Softly she opened her eyes to the sight of his broad back. _

"_Don't give up yet, Inoue," he huffed over his shoulder, his monster sized blade interlocked with the enemy's. _

_He had come to her! She was his first choice to save after all! His voice confirmed it. She couldn't stop the tears anymore; they brimmed over with the rain. _

_Almost immediately, she thought how selfish, how absurd! At a time like this, she wasn't supposed to feel joy. What about Kuchiki-san? Kuchiki-san!_

_Whether or not Kurosaki-kun exchanged dialogue with the opposition, she did not notice. Even the clanging of metal failed to reach her. She could only narrow her eyes to focus on the small body in the distance. She watched the other girl's sword break into two. But that didn't matter; the fatal blow had been deflected. Just barely. However, the adversary wasn't defeated yet, he only seemed more inclined to attack. He even seemed to change his approach this time. Instead of delivering with finality, the villain drew shallow slices across Kuchiki-san's body teasingly. _

_Orihime clenched her fists, the burning sensations returning to her fingers. She demanded to fight again. _

_Kuchiki-san, you mustn't die! _

_When her body betrayed her, both knees dropping to the ground, Orihime thought she would drag them. Move! Move! Move!_

"_RUKIA!" burst Kurosaki-kun's voice. It didn't take long for him to reach the fallen Shinigami, blocking the next attack with his own sword. Orihime was still half-crawling-half-walking towards them, passing by the defeated corpse of her former foe. The clashing Zanpakutous up ahead created sparks, bringing flittering light around them, even in the rain. _

_It was really taking so long to get there; the furious increase in Kurosaki-kun's spirit pressure made it even harder for her to reach them. _

_Move! Move! Move!_

"_You…? Inoue…"_

"_Kuchiki-san, don't move too much. I'm going to heal you."_

_A faint smile played across her pale face. "But you don't look any better than I do."_

"_Don't worry. I can still heal you in this condition." Orihime had a faint smile of her own. Quietly, she added, "I guess my will to heal will always be greater than my will to fight." Orihime's eyes were still moist from her tears and Kuchiki-san must have noticed the gleam in them. _

"_I'm not sure what you're talking about. But thank you."_

"_It's alright. Just hang in there."_

_Time passed with no indication. In the midst of her great concentration, only the sounds of rain made her aware of her surroundings. Persistently and patiently she worked on Kuchiki-san and herself. She could feel the warmth returning to her hands. She could also see the colors returning to Kuchiki-san's cheeks. _

_She felt a light tap on her shoulder when she finished and turned around to see Kurosaki-kun's concerned face above her. _

"_Thank you Inoue." _

"_It's nothing. Kuchiki-san fared pretty well on her own, didn't she?"_

"_Ah." The rest of their companions had arrived now and were looking over his shoulders. Orihime didn't notice; she only saw how Kurosaki-kun stared past her and settled his eyes on the one who changed his world. Though the immediate dangers were gone, a small trace of worry still registered on his face. _

_The realization hit her before their group dispersed to their respective places for the night. No, it didn't just hit; it slammed into her and sent everything crashing—her very soul shaken and her heart shattered. She wept inwardly while keeping the mask of blind optimism displayed on her face. She watched Kurosaki-kun and Kuchiki-san stalk off in the same direction, with Kuchiki-san a few paces ahead. _

_Orihime actually understood him quite well. This case was no different. _

_Kurosaki-kun saved her first because he wasn't a selfish guy. _

In the present, Inoue glances one last time at the clinic. Satisfied, she resumes her sojourn. She hasn't seen old Tatsuki-chan in a while.

_Even though that bit of hope was false, for a short moment, Inoue Orihime had been very happy.

* * *

_

Ichigo is not in the state of mind to notice such things. In a cloud of anxiety he paces the length of the room, repeatedly pausing in front of the bathroom door, then staring at it wearily, before pacing again. He is a doctor—although a stand in, one who has not completed his training, but nevertheless a doctor—and if his mind was straight, he would have been able to avoid this scenario, would have been able to find out for himself, for them, instead of waiting helplessly for the answer.

If the small package hadn't fallen out of Rukia's bag, he would have been ignorant of this turmoil, wouldn't have shared it with her. But then again, how are they _sharing _when she locked him out of their bathroom, and didn't so much as make a sound from the other side? She is letting him die all alone from anxiety!

He stops in front of the door again and wrinkles his forehead some more. One fist is raised to rap against the smooth wood, but then he thinks better and draws it to the back of his head, to scratch with frustration.

Back to pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth.

And what kind of answer does he want anyway? _That_, he hadn't explored. So he goes to their bed and sits down with a thump. Ichigo folds his arms stiffly across his built chest and stares hard at the door, intent on boring a hole through it.

On the other side, Rukia crouches against the door, one arm cradling her knees close, the other extended and holding a slender plastic tester.

Three minutes can be a long time. Especially to wait for some pink lines to show up. And why pink of all colors?

She had read the instructions off the box over and over. It hardly made sense at first. By the fourth try she thinks she gets it. She is supposed to wait three minutes for the lines to appear. One line for negative and two for positive. A negative result means she's not pregnant. Positive means…means…

What about Ichigo? That poor jerk, he must be just as anxious or even worse off than her. She hadn't wanted to put him in this predicament. She wanted to be sure first; that's why she hadn't told him right away. She could have asked him to personally check her at the clinic, but she didn't want to burden him unnecessarily. Besides, those medical tools and instruments are always so cold.

Ichigo finds himself on his feet again, unable to sit still. He moves to the window and places his hands on the ledge. Too warm. The room is much too warm. The problem is quickly remedied by a switch of the latch and a swift pull.

A cool draft of moist air washes in, carrying autumn notes of burnt firewood and rain; he leans out a little more to get a lung's fill. He notices the sky is starless but far from ink black. The round lunar body looms at the edges, further glazing the damp world beneath with its silver-blue luster.

The celestial sphere, the luminous glow—all the same as that night—satiates his body with the same sentiments.

_Moonlight cut through the sheet of rain. It threw a vivid sheen of blue over the glistening streets and sidewalks. He watched the back of the petite Shinigami up ahead, currently in her human frame. Her usual grace was absent; she was walking with uncharacteristically stiff shoulders. And she was being much too silent. _

"_Rukia." _

_She stopped and turned her head a little, barely giving him the profile of her face. "Ah." That was all the response she would give. Not even the rain's pattering could fill in the silent void between them. _

"_Rukia, I—I…" _

_She faced forward again when he failed to complete his sentence. "We should hurry. Unless you plan on getting sick."_

"_Rukia. Oi! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"_

_She whirled around and faced him with the front of her body this time, her chin upturned in a defiant manner. "If you're offering an apology, then I don't need it. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you did as you should." _

_Annoyance spread across his visage in the form of a scowl. "How the hell do you figure I was gonna apologize? Quit putting words in my mouth."_

"_Oh? Then what the hell were you about to say? Enlighten me please," she challenged, equally irritated._

_He stared at her long and hard. The downpour had already relented to a drizzle, but nevertheless, they were both drenched. Her severe black tresses were nothing but a wet mop of hair. Rukia stared back at him, unblinking. It was then that he noticed how she had all of her hair out of her face for once; she must have brushed it back while they were walking. It was strange seeing her entire forehead, completely bare. _

_Strange was not necessarily a bad thing. _

_Discomforted by his sudden attention to her appearance, he abruptly inserted, "We need to hurry back to get outta these wet clothes." He pushed on ahead of her. He looked back when he didn't hear her footsteps echoing his own._

_Rukia didn't move. Refused to. Her graceful attributes were back, evident in her downcast eyes. The fan of her dark lashes caught a bead of rain, like dew on the petals of a morning glory. "You haven't enlightened me yet."_

_Ridiculous. Like playing tag. "Doesn't matter." But he kept the game going anyway. _

"_It does matter."_

"_Why?"_

_She continued to frown at the ground, even biting on her lower lip. Now that—that, Ichigo hadn't seen before. Her lips deepened into a scarlet shade and became the most prominent feature on her pale complexion, as a red rose blooming in the midst of a snowy landscape would. "Because I'm curious." _

_A childish answer. It could have eased the knitting of his brows, had he been unguarded. "And?"_

"_Well?"_

"_Well what?"_

_She sharply jabbed him in the gut. She didn't like his answer. _

"_Fuck! The fuck you do that for!"_

"_So you weren't going to apologize." Her voice came out softer, almost sad. _

_Ichigo recovered from his hunched up position and was now scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Thought you said I had no reason to."_

"_So you WERE going to apologize?" _

"_No."_

_Rukia scrunched up her button nose in puzzlement. "Then stop confusing me, moron."_

"_You're the confusing one, MORON." Seeing they weren't getting anywhere, he figured he should fess up. Besides, it'd help him sleep better too. "When we were fighting those damn Arran—"_

"_I change my mind. I don't want to be enlightened."_

_Goddamit. Tag again. He felt like ripping his hair out. "Well make up your fucking mind. Fuck, I'm gonna tell you anyway so stop acting like a drama queen. Back then, I wanted to---"_

_She cut him off again, that bitch. "It's perfectly fine, Ichigo. You can't always be selfless. I can understand."_

"_You don't un—_

"_Ichigo, you don't have to explain."_

"_DAMMIT RUKIA! WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH ALREADY?" His face softened at seeing her surprised expression. He continued on, this time losing the edge from his voice. "The thing is, I wasn't being—being— selfish." This was harder than he thought, saying it out loud, admitting the words even to himself. He ignored the lump in his throat. "It would have been selfish to save—you. First." He couldn't look her in the eyes.

* * *

_

After taking an excruciatingly long time, the pink begins to make its appearance across the face of the plastic tester. Rukia bites on her lower lip, impatience gnawing at her. How similar it is to that time! A single second felt like an hour and a minute like a year. She had felt it at that time, desperately searching for the right reply, one that couldn't possibly damage their friendship any further, but perhaps preserve what was left.

"_It would have been selfish to save—you. First." _

_The implications reached her quickly and she didn't like it. "Don't talk like that."_

"_Don't talk like what?"_

"_Like that."_

"_Like what?"_

"_Like that."_

"_ARRGHH! I give up!" He grabbed a fistful of his orange hair to confirm it. _

_Rukia never minded tag. Only now it resembled a tug-o-war. "Let's walk back, Ichigo." She didn't wait to hear his gruff voice, the sound of his shoes against the wet pavement was enough. It may have only taken another three minutes to get home, but those three minutes were unbearably long. Long even to an immortal whose time flowed infinitely. Rukia felt numb in her gigai while waiting for Ichigo to unlock the front door. And still numb when they walked through the door together, even as they climbed up the Kurosakis' stairway. _

_She paused meticulously in front of the twins' bedroom door, pondering a way to open it without waking them up. Yuzu, she wasn't worried about. But Karin, Karin was a light sleeper. It was something Rukia picked up on from the last few weeks that she shared their room. Her slender fingers went to wrap around the doorknob when the warmth of Ichigo's hand halted her. He lightly pulled her away, urging her to follow him. She hesitated, but didn't resist. _

_A thousand admonishments screamed out in her mind, yet the numb body continued to let Ichigo lead it by the hand. _

_Toward his room. _

_It must have been the gigai. Was it falling out of synchronization again?_

"_Ichi..." she managed, when they were finally in his room and the door quietly shut. "I'm fine with the closet, but I need a change of clothes—"_

"_Don't make me lose my nerve..." he whispered and pulled her abruptly into his arms. _

_Rukia stiffened against him. Her voice found again, "What? Are you mad?" She forcefully pushed him off her. _

_This seemed to rouse him from his insanity, or make him lose his nerve, whichever it was. Ichigo blushed profusely. "Che. All that fighting must have done something to my head. I'm delirious." There was an edge to his voice and he wasn't even looking at her directly. _

"_Anyhow, get out of those wet clothes before you get sick." She proceeded towards the door and stopped when her fingers got close to the knob. _

_Don't be foolish. Don't turn around. Just don't. _

_Her self-reprimand was useless, she was gazing at him again, and his amber orbs met hers. Metal to magnet, her feet carried her back towards him. _

_Instinctually and simultaneously they grabbed for each other and pressed their lips together hungrily. Logic was shoved to the side, giving way to their ferocity, madness, pent up desires. They took turns raising their arms, peeling the damp shirt off the other, fumbling over zippers, tumbling onto the bed in a mess of tangled hair, arms and legs. _

_Consequence always came in the morning, but recklessness felt good in the night.

* * *

_

"It came out negative."

"Negative? Is that supposed to be a good th----I mean, speak a language I know."

She frowns at him first. Isn't she speaking the language of the medical profession? "I'm not pregnant."

"Oh. I see." The lines on his face slowly smooth out. After a momentary pause, he encircles her with his arms and gently crunches her face against his chest. His tee-shirt is soft and smells like fresh laundry to her.

"Would you have been disappointed if I were? Or are you disappointed now because I'm not?"

"That—that I don't know. But whether you answered yes or no, these arms will embrace you just the same." Then after no response, "Rukia?"

"You sound funny when you say things like that."

He ignores the remark. "You're much more in tune with your body now." The skeptical look she throws him causes Ichigo to reel back. "I didn't mean that in a perverted way. Just that you noticed enough to---" His wife cut him off by clasping a hand over his mouth.

"So I am, huh? In tune."

He smiles warmly at her, the smile he rarely likes to show. "Yeah, it looks like you are. You're really doing fine here. 'Cause this is your world now." Rukia can't explain why, but those words mean a lot to her.

_End Chapter Three

* * *

_

_AN: Weird, I sure do like to use a lot of s/l/g sounds a lot Sorry if the flashbacks disrupt the flow. I figured I couldn't move forward without explaining how things came to be (in my head). I'll probably do one more flashback somewhere in the later chapters, and then the story will resume in a nice chronological order. _

_I've slipped into using the passive voice again---I hate that—if only I had used the past tense since the beginning, then it would have been easier to avoid. Oh, and if you read the first chap when it first came out, I've actually revised and reposted it, so there are some new (small) details that I threw in there. _

_P.S. Feel free to point out any mistakes I may have missed. _

_--Oct 25, 2005_

**Akemi: **ur the first again! I think I should give you a cookie, because I'm always dreading that the first review would be a flame (and then you make me feel better).

**Faye Chua: **Glad u like those lines. It was spun from KT's quote about needing to grip the sword to protect, but being unable to embrace while gripping the sword. But then I find another quote from him about rust being bad….gotta make amends 4 that somewhere in the later chapters ;

**Satan Hat: **If they had children…..gawd…is it a good thing that we don't find out just yet? Read your profile…you like Cheeky Angel too? I loved the anime and really want to read the manga now!

**Dark Grieveous: **That means a lot! Hope this chap is up to par (it was so hard writing it).

**Bakageta: **Hey, inspirational speakers are great! But yeah, it's hard not to be critical—especially when there are so many good writers out there—it's hard not to compare! (o, read ur fic, very nice. In my review I meant to say 1st paragraph (or 2nd really), not 1st line)

**ChibiRulz YanLan: **Thanks for supportin' me! The thought of Rukia being a mother kind of dangled in my head but I felt like it'd resemble my other fic too much (SK fandom). Now a love triangle—that sounds good to me too!

**seal-chan: **I'm glad you liked the interlude—I was afraid it was awkward, especially with the changes in tenses. Oh! And please let me know which parts are confusing, because I have a tendency to try to describe too much action and end up losing people!

**Procrastinator-starting2moro:** u envy my writing? LoL, all while I'm envying someone else's too. Isn't it a writer's curse? But no grumbling allowed!

**Chakura: **Thanks But sadly, I think it reflects how I feel about my life…although boring is definitely better than seeing ghosts and fighting hollows!

**Danny-171984: **No worries, I can't sleep at night with an unfinished story. I'm glad the Zangetsu part didn't make you skeptical, because frankly I didn't know how to make him go away in a believable way.

**bianca s: **mmm…homemade chocolate chip cookiiieees…I love Rukia too…I just wish Ichigo would throw some signs that he likes her too! That KT…


	4. A Promise Between Men

Ch 4. A Promise between Men

* * *

"Do things in moderation, ya hear me?" yells Ichigo across the vast chaos of squealing infants and their poor, haggardly parents. Rukia waves back enthusiastically, her raven head practically lost amongst the sea of children. He watches her till she disappears with the rest of the wave into the main conference room. "Geez. Getting excited over something like this. I bet she wasn't listening at all. Whatever; I should be getting lunch."

It definitely hadn't been his idea to come to this so called "convention." All the hair on his body had stood on its fine ends when he first heard about Chappy becoming a children's book series. Supporting her manga reading habits was hard enough already.

But it didn't get just end there (this is _his_ life story after all). They _had_ to have a convention for Chappy the books series, and they had to have the convention _here_ of all places.

Well, the convention wasn't exactly held in Karakura, but in a neighboring district. That's where all the fuss started. Ichigo refused to let Rukia go alone, while also refusing to go with her. Rukia knew it herself, that taking the subway on her own would be a bad idea; last time she ended up two prefectures away from where she should have been. She was left with no choice but to convince Ichigo to accompany her.

Oh, he stuck his foot down initially. Shit, she pouted with the intensity of a five year old, but he never budged. Then, after realizing her tactic wasn't working, Rukia refused to speak with him. For instance, when he would ask her what she wanted for dinner, she'd give him a "hmmph" for a reply. He didn't mind that strategy at all, at least not for the first three days.

On the fourth day she got creative. Her sleepwear became a little "different." Instead of donning her usual worn out bunny themed cotton pajamas, she started strutting the silky sheer stuff

_And_ it got skimpier each night. _And_ she added not touching her to the list of his punishments, on top of her silent treatment.

Sure, it's normal for married couples to fight every now and then. _But_ normal married couples fight over money, vacation destinations or how to decorate the interiors of the house. They do not, however, fight over going to some stupid convention about some stupid children's book series revolving around some stupid freakin' bunny. They especially do not revoke their spouse's rightful privileges to sex because of said bunny. Ludicrous. Absolutely, freakin' ludicrous.

After taking one too many cold showers, Ichigo finally cracked. It definitely wasn't one of his finest moments as a man. Hell, being a man was his downfall in that case (he obviously recovered quite well from the pregnancy scare just a few weeks ago).

He was able to negotiate a little though, to his consolation. He agreed to accompany her on the trip but refused to go inside. Rukia easily agreed much to his surprise, making him think that maybe it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.

Yet.

Until this moment.

How long has it been since he'd seen one of them again? Less than three years, most likely. Ichigo remembers he hadn't stopped encountering them just because he stopped being a Shinigami. So what did he do then? Never mind that---what will he do now? Baring its teeth, the squid-like hollow (what twisted attributes!) cautiously approaches Ichigo, deliberating over whether his prey, with unusually dense spirit pressure, warrants a prudent attack or not. For the first time in a long while, Ichigo wonders if having soul candy or a substitute shinigami license will do him any good---not that he has them in his possession.

So why worry about the hypothetical when he has this situation at hand?

Ichigo decides to sprint towards the most remote area he can find. He curses the city for its narrow alleys and populated streets as he runs, his shoes slapping against cement. The bystanders look on in astonishment before scrambling away from the eruption of concrete and debris seemingly chasing after the orange-headed man. Ichigo runs till he reaches a dead end and faces his enemy head on. At least this area is desolate.

The hollow's tentacles lash out at Ichigo, which he skillfully dodges, a sign his fast reflexes have not yet dulled. He rolls to the side of the hollow and lands a kick upon its body. The hollow clumsily turns his head towards him and attempts another assault, to which Ichigo replies with a punch to its face. An explosion of pain and surprise jolts Ichigo. The blood gushes out from his knuckles and his fist unclenches itself, the bones seemingly broken.

Before he can brace himself for another charge, he glimpses a flash of flame like red, followed by the familiar black robe and shining steel gripped between calloused hands. It simply takes a crack from the blades for the hollow to meets its demise.

The same flamboyant appearance. The same cocky grin. "Renji. What the hell are ya doin' here?"

"What? I can't expect a simple thanks from the likes of you?"

"Che. I could have handled it myself." Ichigo looks at Renji pointedly this time. "Don't dodge the question. What are you doing here?"

"To make sure Rukia's being properly taken care of and that you're not giving her excessive grief."

"You should be asking whether she's given me excessive grief. In any case, you can go home now. Things are just fine."

"You insolent brat. What kind of welcome was that?"

"For not being friendly yourself, what kind of a welcome did you expect? That aside, how'd you know we were here?"

"That's nothing for a captain like me."

"So you're a captain now and had to brag about it?"

"Shut up. I haven't seen you for three years, so it's informing not bragging."

It's a lie and they both know it. However, Ichigo won't correct Renji on it only being three months. He won't tell him he had known Renji was silently observing their wedding from the distance. Not something two men need to talk about, especially not two men with an equal amount of pride, both equally fragile.

"Whatever you say."

"How come she's not with you right now? You better not have ditched her somewhere---"

"She's enjoying herself at the Chappy convention. And I'm supposed to pick her up in a couple of hours. You done with the interrogation yet? You're really grating on my nerves."

Renji looks back at Ichigo, dumbfounded. "Chappy convention?"

Ichigo returns Renji's gaze with a bored expression. "Yes, Chappy convention."

"They have such things here too?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Seriousness reclaims Renji's face. "Really, how is she doing? I saw her briefly…sometime last month…" He doesn't catch the flicker of surprise on Ichigo's visage.

Rukia hadn't mentioned anything. "She's adjusting. Still."

His short answer seems to infuriate Renji. "Adjusting huh? Is that how you explain that dull look in her eyes?"

"I don't recall there being a dull look in her eyes." Another lie. "Did you come here to pick a fight?" He really wants to say, _'Don't worry'_ or _'She's struggling a little, but she's not unhappy,' _but this is Renji he's talking to for God's sake.

Grabbing Ichigo roughly by the collar now, Renji brandishes, "Don't take everything so lightly. This is Rukia we're talking about. Not only do you need to protect her with your life, you also better make sure she's happy."

Stoic-faced, Ichigo pushes Renji's hand away and straightens the collar on his shirt. "Funny how you're reusing my old lines."

The other man breaks into a smile and the heavy air is lifted. "Ha ha. It's kinda ironic now that you mention it."

"She really is doing well." Now it is Ichigo who is being serious. _Did you know that just a few weeks ago she was so close to becoming a mother? Rukia becoming a mother---bringing life instead of death…_Of course he would never say those things aloud to Renji.

"I have no choice but to take your word then."

"Ah. You have my word."

"She did choose you after all." It barely comes out audible, but Ichigo hears it perfectly.

He changes the subject. "So how is Soul Society? Everyone doing well? I mean, even someone like you is captain now."

"Things run pretty smoothly without evil plots and conspiracies in the way. Wait a sec---what do you mean someone like me! You trying to pick a fight now?" He shakes a fist at Ichigo who also does the same.

"Ha! I asked you the same thing earlier!"

"Well, I'll let you off the hook this time."

"Oh, why thank you so fuckin' much."

"Ahh, welcome." The bulging veins tucked back into their proper places, Ichigo and Renji speak with composure again. "I've used up my time again. Bye for now."

"What? Renji, you're going back already? Didn't you want to at least see Rukia?"

"I'll come back another time. For now you make sure to keep your promises."

"That goes without saying."

"Later."

Stomaching an unsettling feeling, Ichigo watches the shinigami disappear. He promises to protect Rukia, but what if one of those things shows up again? Will he be able to do anything in his current state?

His stomach growls its complaint, reminding Ichigo he hasn't eaten yet.

Maybe he's thinking too much again. Let him be a husband, a doctor and possibly a father. Let someone else be the Shinigami.

* * *

The human world passes beneath his feet in splotches of color as Renji skims through the air, occasionally hopping off telephone poles and other man-made architectures jutting through the sky. He berates himself for letting his emotions get the best of him again. They haven't spoken in years and look at how their first exchange goes. He had meant to be a little more mature, and more understanding perhaps.

He simply couldn't help it. Not after seeing that indifferent look on Ichigo's face, as if the boy had thought it was very natural for Rukia to live in his world. As if he didn't realize the immense pains of severing her ties from everyone and everything she had known. Damn it all! Why does Rukia have to change? And yet Ichigo…that Ichigo…why doesn't he seem to change?

At least that's what Renji wants to believe; it would be easier if Ichigo really had those faults. Ichigo feigned nonchalance too well. It make Renji angrier at himself in knowing how a mortal who's only lived a tenth of Renji's life could ever be so much better at hiding his emotions.

But most of all he's angry that he couldn't be the one whom Rukia chose.

And that in fact, Rukia had chosen well.

Did Renji see it then?

_The day was ending and the air smelt faintly of yesterday's rain_. _She wore a pale lemon dress on that delicate frame of hers. It looked good, short sleeves and all---in the midst of a windy day. The sheer fabric wafted against her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. _

"_You're not—"_

"_I'm here to bring you home."_

"_But—"_

"_Your brother hasn't asked for you yet, but no doubt he's concerned."_

"_I see." She looked beautiful with her eyes downcast. He realized how odd it was to notice something like that then. _

"_Damn you Rukia. What's with your dull face and voice? And you even got Urahara-san to lend you another gigai. How troublesome that it hides your reiatsu too damn well. Would have taken me more than a day to track you down if you didn't hang around in the most obvious places."_

_She didn't answer and maintained her focus on the ground. _

"_Look at me, dammit."_

_But she wouldn't. Realization dawned on him. _

"_Don't tell me…"_

"_I did."_

_His tattooed arm burst out from his sides and violently grabbed the collar of her dress. He shook her in his clutch while his teeth grinded fiercely in his mouth. _

"_You—you—you---Goddamn you Rukia!"_

"_I hope you can understand."_

"_Understand what? Do you understand? Understand how you won't ever be able to come back to Soul Society again? How well do you understand that? How well do you understand what just you did?"_

"_I understood perfectly. I've already had it cleared with the elders. Even Byakuya-nii-sama is aware." She still refused to look at him and he hated that. _

"_So then…so I misunderstood, right? Right? You can still travel between both worlds---" His eyes searched for hers. _

"_No, you were not mistaken. I'm pardoned from the crime of abandoning my post. I won't face any punishment—other than being exiled."_

"_Stop joking, Rukia!"_

"_I planned to tell you in person but the circumstances forced me to scribble you a note. It appears you did not receive it."_

"_A note? You scribbled me a fucking note? All these years and you only manage to scribble me some lousy note?" The red spikes on top of his head rustled gently in the wind. _

"_He was in danger...otherwise, I would have never left in the hasty manner I did. I knew I owed you an explanation face to face. I'm sorry Renji." It definitely sank in then. He did not say anything for awhile. And when he finally did, it was hoarse laughter that escaped his throat. It reverberated oddly through the moist air._

"_I suppose I should wish you well. Congratulate you on your new found happiness and other sorts." _

"_Ren—"_

"_Don't." The ice in his voice must have sliced into her, for she froze on the spot. "Don't even say my name. I don't want to hear you say my name." He never wanted to say these sorts of things to her. Not to her. He was really messing up badly like he always did before._

_Renji turned the other way so he would not have to look at her. The season of fall had descended upon this human realm, decorating the streets with fiery red leaves. A setting sun provided the backdrop with its vibrant colors; it spilled brilliant stretches of red and orange across the canvas of sky. This world's beauty was mocking him. _

_He turned back around and gave her a look not of anger this time, but one full of disappointment. "Maybe someday I can come to understand your decision. But not right now. Not right now, godammit. Good bye Kuchiki Rukia."_

Yes, he did see it then, that Rukia had chosen well. And knowing that made it more painful.

_End Chapter Four

* * *

_

_AN: Booo! I'm not exactly thrilled with the content of this chapter—not very exciting—but hopefully it sets things up for things to come. I'd appreciate it if you let me know whether you feel bothered about the constant switches in tone and mood. Unless you didn't notice it at all--- that would be a good thing, me thinks! And as promised, this should be the last flashback. The next chapter we'll see a more intimate IchiRuki moment - I really hope you stick around_.

--Nov 7, 2005

**rukiaprincess:** but I hopesorry I haven't signed into msn for awhile this chap makes up for it and that the flashback will work for you once again.

**Danny-171984:** I'm scared this chap won't leave quite the impression as it did in the last one. But nevertheless I'm glad you saw Ichigo making a 'move' as the turning point like I intended.

**Bakageta:** I admit that it was quite a weird title…particularly the pink lines part…now it makes me wonder about the title of this chap….

**Akemi:** I feel the same way too. Poor Hime, but we gotta sacrifice her for the sake of Rukia and Ichigo!

**Kuro-Ippikiookami21:** I wish I could claim that doctor thing as being originally my idea, but I remember reading a one-shot a long time ago where he became a doc when he was much older. It's hard not to be influenced. Though it makes me wonder if my story's influenced anyone else's. It's great to inspire one another!

**Dark Grieveous:** Your review also brightened up my day; I'll be counting on your feedback for this chap also!

**elenayuan:** Thnx for your honesty. I felt that line was OOC too, yet I couldn't help it because for some reason I wanted to hear him say it. But hopefully it showed how much more reluctant Rukia is at showing her "fluffy" side, by commenting on how strange Ichigo sounds. And I was skeptical about the twins thing too so I may edit that part later. I'm thinking they may be fraternal twins since the manga states that they are both 11 years old.

**een nihc:** No worries, because you leaving a line is encouraging enough. It lets me know someone is reading and may actually enjoy it!

**semmett:** he he, I've sort of abandoned my other fic to update this sooner, but you've helped make me feel less guilty.

**Teara:** A new reviewer! I hope the lack of IchiRuki will be okay and that you'll be back for the next chap.

**seal-chan:** I'm glad you didn't mind the flashbacks and that Inoue's pain across even though I wasn't able to flesh that part out enough. As for Renji…

**osilly:** Lol. I'm beginning to think I should have Ichigo impregnate her soon. Thanks for the compliment, I was a little self-conscious about the way I wrote things.

**Procrastinator-starting2moro:** I think my fics gonna become au pretty soon, there's definitely no way of guessing how KT's going to do things. I'm hoping that Rukia sneaks back into his room too—and yeah the bed would be a short cut to things!

**Faya Chua:** Gomen, I cut out the sex scenes. I'll make up for it next chapter, I promise—I just don't know how far I can appropriately go—without making myself and others squirm from embarrassment. And I'm glad you appreciated the Orihime pov.

**Alamandorious:** You dropping a line is good enough for me—it's encouraging enough that you took the time to leave feedback. Hope to see you next chap!


	5. Framing their Relationship

Ch 5. Framing their Relationship

* * *

Rukia draws a circle. Then with a few careful strokes, she adds two long ears—one of them flopping over. Next comes the eyes—two ovals lying side by side. She fills in the rest of the details next, adding a ribbon to the base of the raised ear. It's somewhat frilly though, causing her to pause and bite on the end of her pencil until a sudden, better idea replaces the old. The ribbon gets erased. Long lashes and a jumper help to identify the bunny's gender instead. 

When finished she looks over her shoulder and rests her sapphire eyes on his sleeping figure, sunk deep into a heap of blankets and pillows. She smiles complacently and turns back to her work, having decided to scribble a few words. _Cheer up! See you after work!_ Meanwhile, a flustered Ichigo chases plushy toy lions in his dreams.

In the morning Rukia wakes up late and alone. She'll have breakfast by herself again. She rises and ambles over to her desk where her eyes settle on last night's doodle; it lies in the same spot but is most definitely altered. Her lonely bunny is now accompanied by an unruly-haired one in a tee-shirt and pants. If the artist was there, he'd have even gloated over how much better the companion for Rukia's rabbit was drawn.

* * *

Isshin studies his son from the corner of his eyes, carefully feigning oblivion as he slides his white coat off, one sleeve at a time. Ichigo is hunched over his desk, his face all creases and lines, while sorting through the clinic's files and folders. The stern face on his boy is nothing new to undiscerning eyes. It's easy to miss the undertones of his expressions, such as the added quality suggesting more significance than the usual easily annoyed, nonsense intolerant temperament. Isshin remembers seeing it once before, when standing before the granite monument that bore his wife's inscription. It's the look of regret; one completely unfit for Ichigo. Fortunately for Ichigo, father knows best which remedy to administer. 

The flat, hefty object thwacks the side of Ichigo's face and skids across his desk, sending the once organized piles of loose papers sprawling. A startled Ichigo glares at the object in question. A freaking clipboard? His eyes shoot over to the assailant across the room. "What's your prob—"

"You're not my son."

Rubbing sorely at the side of his red face, Ichigo gapes at his old man. "Huh? Make some sense for once, old man!"

"That sullen face of yours, fix it."

Ichigo leans in some more, his mouth only gaping wider. "Huh?"

"Not 'huh!'" The sole of hard rubber shoe smacks against cheekbone.

"Aaaah!" Ichigo shakes his fist violently in the air, his wrath just edging to explode. A freaking boot to the face…old bastard!

But Isshin interrupts by jovially calling out, "Rukia-chan," and producing a bell-like ringing sound on the last syllable of her honorific.

* * *

"Oi, you didn't have to come out in this cold weather. I'm a man. A man can walk back home by himself."

"There's no use in complaining now. I'm already here." She smiles radiantly at him with her head tilted, and his body pulsates in waves.

"Give me a couple of minutes to clean up the mess then."

"Just go on ahead. Poppa will finish and lock up alone." Isshin is still grinning at his daughter-in-law.

"Try not to sound so noble. You did make the mess in the first place—"

Isshin cuts him off again. "Scram kid! Don't you recognize an opportunity when it's right there? The full moon's out, perfect for a romantic strol…." He pushes them out the door and slams it before finishing his sentence. He waves exaggeratedly from the other side of the glass and flashes them a cheesy grin. Rukia can't help but smile back.

As soon as they step out of the clinic, Ichigo reflects on how twilight comes too soon. He leaves his house when it's dark and returns home when it's dark. But before Ichigo can lament further on light's decreasing hours in day, his wife tugs at his sleeve, allowing her own arm to slip under his.

"I'm only doing this to stay warm, you know." Her petite nose is scrunched as she looks up to inform him of this important fact.

"Yeah yeah I know already," he says in one breath, his eyes narrowed down at her.

"It's not like I want to get close or anything."

"No need to remind."

Declaration of winter's nearing passage echoes through the first draft that hits them. The full bodied moon hangs in the unmarred navy sky, promising a rainless tomorrow. Meaningful silence falls between them. Discarded foliage rustles beneath their boots. The ruthless, chilly winds bite at their uncovered skin. Ichigo's free hand reaches out to Rukia, who stops for him and patiently allows his gloved but numbed fingers to tighten the lavender scarf around her neck. She peers back at him thoughtfully as he does so, with most of her face lost beneath the mass of wind tossed hair and winter coat's collar. Then they continue again with shuffling steps, side by side, on the noiseless and seemingly never ending stretch of leaf strewn avenue.

Their path treads through an artist's landscape. Their surroundings are filtered into few colors: the lucent blue of atmosphere, the russet leaves glowing gold from street lamps, and the charcoal gray of man made asphalt. It's both vivid and unreal as oil painted scenes on canvas.

Ichigo's senses are drenched with contradictions. His stiff joints move him with precision. His body roasts under piles of clothes, but they nag at him to hurry away from the scorching cold at his earlobes.

Despite everything, there is cause to linger in the way Rukia's arm fit snugly around his. Her nearness soaks him in a comfort akin to sleep. It is the feeling of being immersed in peaceful rest, plush bedding and warm affection. He's glad she didn't permit his walking home alone tonight.

He reflects on their daily ways of exchange. Beyond the bickering, there have been many purposeful touches and meaningful glances, and all that is conveyed yet not conveyed. He supposes their intimate feelings relied not on literal speech as the vessel of communication. Just like themselves, the frame of their relationship was never built on words.

Once inside their home, she asks him, "Hungry?"

"Actually, no," he answers. With a few shakes, his feet are freed from his boots.

"Good." Her gloved hand clasps over his and she leads him off without explanation. He obeys, his curiosity having won over his skeptical nature. They pass by portraits along the stairs. They are blurs of their wedding, family trips, special outings, and other various events in their lives, sequenced without any chronological order on the wall. Ichigo scowls in most of them, but his happiness is evident.

A photo captures his attention half a second longer than the rest. It's one from their trip to Yokohoma. The giant ferris wheel, lit a florescent green, gives the illusion of being in the foreground, where it would sit right between them like a monument of their awkwardness. Ichigo doesn't scowl in that one. The happiness is still there, though heavily guarded, and the more than usual anxiety is evident. His expression in there could have easily labeled the photo "First Date."

He turns his head away from the photos. Takes another step.

The stairs seem endless, the hall seems long, and their bedroom door feels so far away.

_One step._

Time drones excruciatingly slow when she lets go of his hand to shed her outer coat, letting it drop to the floor indifferently. He follows in her lead and takes off his own, his eyes still entranced by her every move as they progress down the hall.

_Three steps_.

His body trembles to connect with her again, but she eludes him with the few paces that separate them. Next, her gloves come off. He peels his off too.

_Three steps._

Then her scarf gets unwound and slackens around her shoulders just before slumping to the ground. His own fingers go to unbutton his shirt.

_Two._

Her sweater is shed next. He tosses his own shirt behind him. When she reaches the door her lustrous hair shines onyx against her milky white tank top.

_Step._

His fingers move to unfasten the string at her waist band while the doorknob turns in her hand. She passes under the doorframe and her trousers collapse to her ankles.

He leaves the door open and the lights off. Lucid light pours in from an unshaded window.

She turns around to kiss him on the chin before pulling back. He plants one on her forehead in return, and then nuzzles her neck. She moans softly against his frostbitten ears and encloses it with the heated wetness of her mouth. Their fingers find each other and intertwine, pulling them away from kissing and into a waltz. They circle around for a bit, moonlight guiding them in music's place.

He wonders why it's always in moonlight that they act like this. Is inhibition better shed in the night? By day they are sparring partners and by night, lovers. Even their first time had been like this. Casting consequence and responsibility aside, they had met under the moon's radiance.

Now that he has her, he can't help but wonder whether she's chosen wisely. He thinks she deserves to be with someone who can prot—

No. Pull back from that thought. His pride can't accept that.

Rukia is looking at him, wide eyed now. "Sorry," he blurts.

"Sorry?" Not good. One of her brow's already arched.

"Never mind."

"Never mind?"

"Yes, never mind. As in forget it so...let's continue."

"Let's continue, huh?" Rukia defies his intentions by breaking away.

"Yes, let's." Irritation digs its way into his voice. Ichigo is amazed at how fast the mood can change; romancing Rukia becomes so short lived.

Definitely her fault and not his.

When she reaches for something on the bed, he spits out, "Wait...what are you doing?" Definitely Rukia at fault again.

She answers by looking at him defiantly in the eye, before she pulls what is, apparently, a nightgown, over her head. It isn't a nightgown from the same collection used in making him acquiesce to her rotten rabbit obsession. That needs to be stressed. Said nightgown has long sleeves and enough big eyed bunnies printed on it to make him feel like a man with a Lolita complex. Her message is real clear, unfortunately.

"You've got to be kiddin'."

"Hmph."

He stares at her, absolutely vexed by her eagerness to pull out any dirty trick anytime. But this time he resolves to teach the midget a lesson by pouncing on her.

"Off of me. Now."

"Even if I do this?" He hikes the skirt up past her abdomen and ambushes her navel with titillating kisses. He grins smugly when she manages, amidst uncontrollable laughter and squealing, to beg him to stop. He obliges and brings his face next to hers. "This better?"

She nods, too exasperated from her laughing fit. There's still a price to pay, she knows, but doesn't mind, because she's already forgotten reasons why they've stopped in the first place. Their lips meet in a kiss and they begin all over again.

When she trails her fingertips softly along his jaw, he realizes how afraid he is of losing_—no—push, push that thought away_.

He quickly remembers every small gesture she makes. The rabbit sketch left out for him to see...with every intention of drawing out his smile. At remembering, something inside him becomes heavy, trembles and threatens to brim over.

_So it is this feeling again_.

He's heard of people falling out of love, and he hopes he won't ever come to know it. He appreciates the feelings he has now. But if it were to happen to him, falling out of love that is, he wonders, who would be the first one to pull away? If the one to linger behind was him, would he ever spout the out the kind of lines he'd heard from a melodrama? The kind he'd scorned before? Or would pride command his feelings be sealed in by silence?

Rukia looks him directly in the eyes as she softly strokes his cheeks, making him realize that maybe it's too much for him, these emotions. He's becoming too much of a sappy fool, he thinks to himself, and nearly laughs. Really, what is he doing? What's with this sudden mood? He's just short of crying.

There's an ominous feeling crawling around in his gut. Falling in too deep with her might only hurt him (how strange that he can still think like this about his life partner).

He moves over her with all of his emotions, raw and passionate. She responds in every way. They connect. They express love without saying anything at all.

Afterwards, she rests her head against his heaving chest and listens to their erratic breathing subside. His heart beats rhythmically against her pressed ear. Perhaps lulled by that sound, Rukia suffers a momentary lapse in judgment and voices softly, "You could have loved someone else. Somebody more capable of making you happy."

His surprise is too brief and Rukia fails to catch it. "And so could you." He pinches her nose. "You're being pessimistic again. Cut that out." Play-along words, he thinks, not realizing their communication is crossing, like it sometimes does. He's unsuccessful at leaving the simple statement as it should be. He attaches another meaning to it, albeit an incorrect one. Thought process clouded by insecurity, Ichigo believes the statement is really directed at her own self. _'I could have loved someone else. Somebody more capable of making me happy,' _she should have said. He doesn't conceive of the woman, the obvious "somebody" whom Rukia alludes to.

Sudden, indistinct rumbling is heard and the couple immediately looks at one another.

"Ah!"

"I thought you weren't hungry."

"Well, what do you want me to do? I always get hungry...afterwards...for some reason," Rukia argues clumsily.

Ichigo scratches at his head. "It can't be helped. Let's get something to eat."

"Hmm."

"It's yes, not 'hmm."

"Hmm."

"Why do you have such a hard head?" He rolls his eyes at the victory smirk she flashes him.

* * *

At their table, he compulsively stirs the warm milk with his spoon (otherwise his hands will shake) as he watches her eat. His jaw is clenching on its own. He stirs. She chews. Stirs. Chews. 

The stirring pauses when he can't hold it in anymore. "Why did you say that?"

"That? That…what?"

He continues stirring again, but never drinking. "That I could have...never mind."

"Ichi---"

"Just forget about it." Then after a thoughtful pause and some more stirring, "Please."

"Ichi—go..?" Rukia frowns out of confusion.

"You never mentioned running into Renji." He can't help himself again. He stirs his milk.

Rukia lightly flinches from the statement. "It was...was too brief."

"I guess that doesn't make it worth mentioning then." Stirs.

Rukia stares at him, feeling a bit flustered. "I guess not. But how...did you happen to see him...after I did?" The stirring stops.

The sudden spark in her eyes discomforts him. The spoon clatters against ceramic when he drops it carelessly inside the cup. The legs of his chair screech at his pushing it back. Now on his feet, Ichigo looks down at his wife's seated figure. "I'm going out for a bit." He doesn't leave room for protest as he traverses the kitchen and leaves the dining room.

The slamming of the front door reverberates throughout the house. Rukia shudders inwardly before peeling her eyes away from the walls.

If she is some other woman, she would have asked questions. She would have at least persisted that he wears a jacket out in the cold. But as both Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Rukia, she doesn't do any of that. She simply clears the dishes and cups off the table.

* * *

Renji isn't the one who bothers Ichigo. It's what Renji can do and what Ichigo _can't _do. 

Protect. One who couldn't protect would not be capable of providing happiness.

There is also guilt. From tearing her away from all that she knew.

Ichigo kicks all the pebbles in his way. He exhales loudly, watching his hot breath collide with cold air before its white trace disappears.

In all his immaturity, he pushed her to choose him over duty. Making love one time wasn't enough; they'd ventured too far past friendship's boundaries for him to stay content with the borrowed time she spared him. When she didn't yield right away, he went on a self-destructive path, unconscientiously baiting her into coming back. He wasn't any different from a snot-nosed brat stomping and wailing because he couldn't have his way. Because of that, Ichigo was very ashamed. And still, he cannot find the courage to apologize to her, not even to this day.

He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt closer to him, entirely wishing he'd at least thought of grabbing a jacket before heading out.

The next minute, he wishes he hadn't come outside at all.

Dammit. Another hollow.

_End Chapter Five

* * *

_

_AN: My thanks go out to you guys who have been supportive. You're awesome! Thank you Rukiaprincess for looking over this chapter's draft with me and not minding its state of extreme mess!_

_P.S. I love the new review reply feature, but I wish I could reply to unsigned reviewers as well. Since I can't, I'll just have to say THANK YOU right here!_

_---Nov 27, 2005_


	6. Yesterday's Blade, Today's Happiness

Ch 6. Yesterday's Blade, Today's Happiness

If it rusts, it can never be trusted / If its owner fails to control it, it will cut him / Yes, pride is / Like a blade

--Kubo Tite

* * *

The sun lifts its body above the horizon and peeks behind thick spreads of cloud; its fragile rays trickle through glass panes to settle on starch-white sheets and the two faint indents left on the bed. Having long given up on sleep, Rukia keeps to the side of their bedroom window. Her right hand is clamped over a trembling left arm, as if one side of her will move without the other half to stop it. 

She tells herself to have faith. She tells herself to wait. Ichigo will come home soon and in one piece. Surely, he'll do that on his own.

In that long space of time, she scrutinizes their previous night's conversation, mostly questioning why she had mentioned such a troublesome thing to Ichigo.

_You could have loved someone else. Somebody more capable of making you happy._

The answer comes swiftly to her, obvious even. There is fear of incompetence at making Ichigo feel his happiest.

The left arm continues to tremble beneath the firm grasp of the right hand. She remains in that oddly familiar stance even as the first snow begins to fall.

* * *

The soft white flakes land on the small puddles of red, become engulfed, and then disappear. More blood weeps from his arms, slowly thinning in its descent and cooling in the mix of snow. For the moment, the pain is numbed and the bleeding forgotten in the wake of the falling, sometimes fluttering, white atmosphere. From the worn down park bench, Ichigo elevates his head to point at the sky with his nose; he heaves slow, foggy breaths and his eyes blink in carefully measured successions. 

It's well past dawn and the snow will rouse the children early from their bed, soon nudging them out the doors to play. His leaving the park becomes necessary in saving their bright eyes from the sight of a bloodied up man, and yet, his will is too wan, letting his body rest a little longer in his current position.

In his forced meditation he calls out to his lost friend, but Zangetsu's remote answer cannot reach, is not heard. It's really nothing surprising, just as it hadn't been surprising last night, in how a dull buzzing has replaced the sound of Zangetsu's echoing voice.

Fighting the Hollow last night, bare knuckled and all, had proven to be no easy feat. Seeing the downward swing from the sword, the black sleeves flapping from behind it and the screeching Hollow as it dissipates into the chilly night was not much easier. So while dripping blood onto the nearly frozen ground, he declined the offer from the patrolling Shinigami to heal his wounds. He had slouched against the bench instead, insisting he was fine, and muttered his thanks. The Shinigami then eyed him wearily, his hands hesitating over something—probably a memory modifier—tucked inside of his sleeve. They both passed a knowing look to one another— and it was then that the other man seemed to have come to some sort of realization. He released whatever it was he reached for and nodded respectfully towards Ichigo before disappearing. Soul society, it seemed, hasn't forgotten about the role Ichigo had once played.

Presently, he lets his eyes flutter open and close on their own, blurring the surrounding lines till he perceives nothing but a placid space of white. Blood loss it must be. He comes to the conclusion calmly; there's no energy left for him to mind it. He drifts along instead.

_O'san? What is the weather like over there, Zangetsu O'san?_

A faint buzzing starts in his head, but soon, next to it he hears a voice, a bit rough, but definitely female and full of concern. It pulls him halfway out of his delirium.

"Ichigo, you're bleeding!" Her black hair is kept in the same style: short and spiky.

A hoarse, "Yeah," rumbles from his throat

"Yeah? That's all you have to say? Well, can you move at all?" His eyelids grow burdensome again. "Ichigo? Ichigo? Let's get you back home."

In the brief switch to consciousness he musters, "Don't let Rukia see me like this." After the words leave his chapped lips, everything darkens to complete blackness and silence.

* * *

"It can't be…the other test said I wasn't…" Her hands cinch the edge of her shirt tightly. 

"Nothing's free of errors."

She's whispering and doesn't know it. "I had already gotten used to the idea…"

"Look at me Rukia-chan." Wisdom pooled in warm eyes, gaze back at her with assurance and understanding. "This is certainly new for you, but… this is a good thing, isn't it?" Unexpectedly, almost like a blow, "Congratulations, Rukia-chan" comes at her.

The words take time to sink in. Once the meaning is fully absorbed, she smiles a sincere smile. "Thank you, Otou-san."

His lips slant into a smile at his thinking that it is Rukia who should be thanked. "Ichigo will be happy. Definitely. Karin and Yuzu too."

Nodding back with newfound conviction now, she mouths, "Uhm."

"So…do you have an idea of when Ichigo will return, from wherever he went?" is as tactful as Isshin can get at this point. Looking at him is hard, so Rukia shakes her head lightly, insinuating her reluctance at being pressed further. "I see. Well, rest here till we hear from Ichigo; it's unsafe for you to be walking back alone in this weather." Through the glassy doors of the clinic, snow is seen flitting and flurrying outside; on occasion, groups of children scurry by, hoarding snowballs in their little arms.

Then without warning…

"And in the meantime, let poppa think of cute baby names!"

The statement nearly throws Rukia off her chair. The doctor's disappeared somewhere, having switched places with the man in front of her, the one who is brainstorming as he tugs at the imaginary length of his beard. "Hmmm…Billy sounds good for a boy. But then Bob isn't too bad. There's also Mack and Buddy…hmm…both sound equally cool…though we might need a name for a girl…Hmmm…"

Picturing Ichigo's face at finding out she let the fate of their child's name rest in his father's hand is more than enough for Rukia to leap out of her chair. "Haaahahah…I suppose. B-b-but it is a bit early to be thinking of baby names, eheheheh..."

His scratching the back of his head sheepishly seems to be a good sign of damage come under control. "I guess you're right…but…" At 'but' Rukia cringes. "Just leave it up to Poppa! Poppa will come up with a good name for sure!"

* * *

_It's black. _

_There's a resonating crackle. He strains his ears to listen and catches another set of noise—conjuring images of recently washed linen stirring dry in the wind. He focuses his eyes. The squinting puts lines and shapes into his perspective. He spots the elongated figure that moves about like a shadow and the coat tail that wisps out like smoke. _

_The crackling dies down when the shadowed face turns to look at him expectantly. The air becomes still but the coat rustles on crisply. "I've never deserted you, Ichigo. I've been here, calling out to you this whole time..."_

"O'san! Zangetsu O'san!"

"Ichigo?"

The immediacy of her voice jolts him and causes his eyes to snap open to an intrusive burst of light; he throws an arm over his eyes to shield himself. Hurrying to register his surroundings, he discovers the support beneath him is a perfect balance between soft and firm. His entire body, excluding the arm he's held out, is wrapped in warmth. "Where am I?" He removes his arm once his eyes adjust. A thin girl—no, a woman—enters his hazy line of vision. "Tatsuki?"

"We're at my place. Oi! Don't try to—" Sitting up results instantly in regret as his abdomen ruptures in pain. The vehement urge to grimace and gasp is held back by the threat of further torment. Attentively Tatsuki stacks up the pillows behind him and gently moves his body to prop back against them. "Really, you're still the same hopeless guy." '_Shut up_,' he wants to say, but ends up watching her fiddle with something on the side table instead. "Here, drink this." A seething cup is shoved in front of his face.

Looking skeptically at the dark liquid inside, he asks, "What's _this_?"

"Medicine."

"This mysterious bubbly stuff is medicine?" The pungent odor hits him.

"Yes, powerful stuff the Arisawas have passed down for generations…and etcetera, etcetera. Now drink."

"You're expecting a guy who works in a medical clinic to just believe that?"

"Just shut up and drink it. And quit grimacing."

It takes one hard gulp to waste the cup of its bitter content. "There. Satisfied?" She takes the cup from his extended hand and checks to see if he's emptied it, finally smiling when that is confirmed.

"It's nice when you listen. Should do it more often."

"Quit grating on my ears already."

"Shut up." The bottom of the cup clanks on the tray, and too abruptly a serious air falls around her. Bluntly she asks, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing much."

"This 'nothing much' doesn't explain your bleeding a dozen gallons of blood all over the bench. You were acting all dejected like some wounded soldier in a melodrama."

He tries to laugh and alternately ends up coughing. "I don't watch melodramas. And if it was a dozen gallons of blood, I'd be dead by now," he squeezes out bitterly.

"It's never killed you before." Her gaze is direct and unflinching. "So you're going to leave me out of the loop again." It's deliberate how she phrases it as a statement rather than a question.

The pained glint in her eyes is recognizable from before. "A Hollow," he offers as way of an apology, for Tatsuki's exclusion both now and back then. But how long since he's actually said that word, 'Hollow', out loud? It is a feeling similar to admitting guilt. Now it is his pride, not Tatsuki's, which suffers from damage.

"A Hollow?" At that her eyes narrow furtively, but she doesn't say much more on the subject; her momentary lapse into self-pity is snuffed out by seeing his shoulders slump apologetically. "You had some deep cuts there. I bandaged them as best as I could, but they're not going to hold for the rest of the night—at least not the places that may require stitches."

For the first time he notices the crude, white plaster binding his arms and torso. He mumbles his thanks, and then after a bit of silence, adds, "It's nothing you need to worry about, Tatsuki."

"You _should_ allow me to worry about you. I'm your childhood friend, aren't I?" Rather than searching his face for an answer, she plops herself down on the ground to sit cross-legged with her back against the side of the bed. "Now that I think about it, I should have taken you to your dad—"

"No, I would have preferred it like this."

"I figured as much." A moment later: "So, not counting today, how have you been? You happy?"

His face crinkles at the odd way she's strung the question. "I have…no complaints…" It is also odd how, by having the back of her head to him, he happens to notice that he's been mistaken in thinking her hair is exactly the same as before. It's a little longer and a little softer at the ends.

"That's good, I suppose. I mean, three months ago, you were happy enough to run off and marry the way you did. Most nineteen year olds don't have that sort of conviction about getting hitched all of a sudden."

Where she's going with the conversation is beyond him, but her sardonic tone brings out the twitching of his brows. "Oi, oi, what do you mean, 'ran off'? We had a proper wedding…YOU WERE THERE!" He consequently grimaces from exerting too much force.

"Orihime was here. She says to tell you and Kuchi—err no—Rukia-san that she's sorry she had to miss the wedding. But she's very happy for the both of you." She's veering off again.

He follows. "Inoue was here? So then…then she went back to America already?"

"She left last week."

"I had no idea."

"Ichigo. You better be happy."

"What the hell are ya talkin' about? Jumping all over the place—"

"I'm talking about being happy! Ichigo, are you happy? Just answer it."

"I already said yes! Yes, I'm obviously happy!" Saying it out loud has a different effect. "What does this have to do with anything…" He begins to catch sight of where their dialogue is headed. "How is she doing? Inoue, I mean." It'll become awkward, he knows, but feels obligated to ask. And more than obligated, he feels concerned.

"Her studies are going well. She's at the top of her class. As to be expected of her."

"That's good."

"She and Ishida-kun split up."

"...I see..."

He notices how Tatsuki proceeds to give him a meaningful glance. "An obstacle sat between them—unmovable." The allotted time expires and her dark eyes shift back to the wall opposite of them. "To be honest, I'm a little disappointed. Had you chosen differently, wouldn't everyone be happier? Does one's happiness come at the expense of another? At least, that's what I wondered while she was here."

"Tatsuki…"

"Ah! Sorry! It's selfish of me, isn't it? In any case, what's done is done. The best decision comes from your own self. So be happy with Rukia-san."

"I…"

"You better be happy, Ichigo. For Hime's sake—"

"I got it already!" His outburst earns him nothing but choked tears and bloody coughs. "Needing to be happy is something I already know about," comes decidedly whispered instead.

* * *

In twilight the sky shines amethyst and falls down white. A new pang, different and deeper from the one his body cries, moves him to run through the snow-covered streets. Ichigo passes by children in the midst of their games; they are but whirls of color in this blanketed world. 

The front door swings open with all his weight and the wind's force, and is answered by nothing but the echo of its own shrill creak. The stairs answer the same way as he storms his way up them. Door after door he opens to find emptiness on the other side.

A rush of curses is projected at himself and his excessive sense of pride. All of his bleeding, all of _her_ worrying is due to that excess of pride.

For all he knows, Rukia may be out searching for him in this dubious weather. Guessing she can also be at his old man's place gives rise to hope, but is quickly annihilated by his impatience when the phone remains unanswered after three rings. His body is too restless for waiting around, so he slams the receiver down in favor of going there personally. Frantically he changes into clean clothes, keeping his newly dressed wounds specially hidden, before hurling himself back into the cold.

He leaves boot marks as he goes along, pitting one foot competitively against the other in an impossible race. Faster and faster in his dash, the more agony is ignored in his limbs is the more red-dotted the trail behind him becomes. Streets, sidewalks, buildings, and city poles are reduced to abstract shapes and lines.

At the turn of the street his foot hits an icy patch that almost sends him colliding onto the ground. Luckily, the combination of a quick reflex and a nearby pole is there to save him (at the strain of his arms, he feels something tear and hears something drip). In clinging onto the pole, his shallow breaths become apparent and the need for air unbearably obvious. Soon his taking one breath develops into a rapid thirst for more as his lungs feel like it can never gather enough oxygen. He feels caught—breathing too hard wrenches his guts, and breathing too soft tightens his chest.

Somehow he comes to the conclusion that he'd best be moving on; idleness allows for pain to manifest. He shifts his feet. Pries his fingers from the pole's icy surface. The first step forward turns into another loose footing, then left uncaught, worsens to a long tumble down the slope. He rolls and rolls and rolls. When his rolling finally comes to a stop, he's given a view of the starless sky (the stars have lent the sky to snowfall).

Silently, he promises that he'll work on being a more rational, less impulsive person once this night is over.

He tears the loose, white strip of plaster flailing out. One breath, two breaths, and then back on his feet he begins to walk. Walking gives way to jogging. Jogging gives way to running.

Relentless running persists until the clinic appears in sight, accompanied by an outline of the small figure pressed up against the window. Immediately following, glaring light breaks across the shadowed ground to reach where he stands.

He's welcomed by bodies spilling out from the front door. Closer up they transform into the members of his family. His old man, Karin and Yuzu are there.

And Rukia. Rukia is there.

"Fool," his ears receive, superseded by a punch to his chest. It takes all his might not to stumble back or cough out loud. The wife he so worried about appears in close proximity, and is growing a smirk on her lips. "You showed up late enough. Any later and you'd have lost rights to naming our first child, come this summer."

For Ichigo the shock is tremendous.

And the happiness more substantial.

He steps away because he wants to do something he shouldn't: hug his wife. His black clothes don't show it, but his skin knows they are soaked all the way through.

When his vision starts to flicker, Rukia, paused mid-sentence perhaps, is staring at something near his feet. Far in the background, his old man mouths off excitedly about something until he's cut off abruptly—probably by method of Karin's foot. Yuzu's panicking should come next, but doesn't. He concentrates on Rukia again, who is saying something too quietly for him to hear.

It can't be helped, so he leans in to listen better.

And realizes that he's falling.

* * *

_O'san, I think I understand my pride now. I thought I had too little when I really had too much. _

_OoOoO

* * *

_

_AN: Sorry for the very late update...this chapter was definitely a struggle…Rukiaprincess can probably attest to that. I'd definitely like to thank her for the much needed feedback and proofing that she's provided. It's so much better with help!_ _Rukiaprincess, THANK YOU! _

_In case anybody is wondering how long this fic will be I'll tell you that I'm aiming for at least 10 chapters. Also, I've roughly sketched out future chapters, so the things that seem ambiguous or vague so far will hopefully become clear by the end. _

_Oh—almost forgot! Many thanks for everyone's time in reading and reviewing. _

_P.S. I hope Tatsuki wasn't too un-Tatsuki_

—_Jan 12, 2006_


	7. Things We Need Not Say

Ch 7. Things We Need Not Say

_AN: Beware of (discreet) manga spoilers!

* * *

_

The snow had come too early and thus abandoned them, without remorse. It left no vestige aside from the glimmer on the streets. One would have supposed it rained the nights previous and nothing more. The air is warmer, erasing proof that winter had ever landed in the middle of autumn. Corpulent clouds now loom over Karakura to appropriately mark the continuation of the rainy season.

Ichigo looks at those clouds. He has a hard time looking at her.

It's been three days (two since he's awaken) and they've only spoken of the surface things.

_Does his chest still hurt? Do his sides still ache?_ Rukia hones these questions repeatedly and frets over the heavy bandages occupying his body. She doesn't stop until he pointedly asks when she's become such a worrywart.

Ichigo hears Rukia take a small step back. When he looks at her through the corner of his eyes he sees that her hands have resigned to her sides. Feeling immediate guilt he mutters, "It's your health." He coughs out the rest. "That's what's important right now."

To the windows she goes without a word, wearing that distant look on her face again. He watches in helplessness as her tiny fingers skim over the glassy surface. Within his own digits, he feels the compulsion to brush away the strings of raven hair falling over her eyes. Finding himself unable to act out on those urges, he clutches the bed sheets beneath him instead.

For practical reasons his old man has him recuperating downstairs in the family clinic. He occupies a corner space, a section divided from the rest of the facility by curtains. The extent of his privacy comes down to sheer, white fabric. His own home or even his old bedroom above would have been preferable, but a person with fractured ribs and gashes all over doesn't really have much of a voice now, does he?

Alone for once, thankfully, there is no better opportunity than now to explain the injuries. Rukia won't ask him herself. That first night he gained consciousness Yuzu had been the one to blurt out the questions. "_Where did all these come from? They put you out for two nights and one day! Why won't you say something, Onii-chan? In fact, why does nobody say anything?"_ His dad cleared his throat then. Karin continued changing the bandages on his arms.

He could still feel Yuzu's eyes on him, awaiting his answer, even after the long moment of silence; but he couldn't pry his own eyes off of Rukia. She had stood at the far window, gazing out like she heard nothing and everything at the same time.

Rukia hadn't asked. Rukia _won't_ ask.

Watching her now, he realizes he's seeing the same profile, and is well acquainted with those feathered movement of lashes; the black wisps rise and fall, fanning ever so gently over intense blue eyes.

His mind wanders, follows his gaze to her angular chin and traces the downward curving line of mouth; it travels with the locks of jet black hair bending along her jaw line, tapering off at the ends, and the pale neck contrasting below it.

The v-shape cut into the collar of her dress exposes an entire slope of neck, and smooth, pink flesh contouring gracefully over soft strokes of collarbone. Like a sheet of silk, her dress nestles on delicate shoulders and ripples south along her slender figure. It's his favorite one on Rukia because the color compliments her well. In light yellow it reminds him of sunlight paling down silver at the end of the day. He's even catalogued it into his brain as such. Rukia would laugh at such romantic of a notion if she knew, so he probably won't ever tell her about that.

No doubt she has yet to fathom his affinity for poetics. He remembers the day they boxed things up for their first new house together, of her thumbing through his dusty collection of sonnets and plays. She offered her opinion on how illustrated books are far more superior to ones with only lines of black and white text. He then retorted that someone who draws (very crudely by the way) bunnies on waffles with maple syrup could learn a thing or two from Shakespeare. His input got rejected. Her stomping on his foot positively confirmed it. That was the end of that.

His view now descends to her belly, which he imagines will swell into a lovely shape before spring—

"What were you thinking?" asks Rukia, cutting off any chances for further digressions.

His attempting to answer her blunt and sudden inquiry becomes something like gasping for air. Breathing, speaking—he is dismayed at struggling for such easy things, things done so simply in normal day to day life.

"I was thinking…" he trails while studying her belly still. "Too much." Yes. He had been thinking too much.

"How many more times will you be reckless like that?" Her voice takes on an austerity that reminds him of the past. "_We'll sever our ties today,"_ she used to insist in that bleak tone of hers, "_since we can't move forward, can't step back."_

"It wasn't something that could be helped," he answers, dropping his gaze onto his torso where white strips overlap each other intricately. He remembers how he'd try to kiss her before she can even finish her sentence. So after pulling away she'd say, "_A relationship between a mortal and Shinigami will never amount to anything." _Quite often she said those kinds of things with her back turned to him._ "We can't meet up like this anymore," _she would emphasize with finality. But it never mattered then; he always persisted in bargaining with her on the terms, anything to extend the time on their expiring relationship. It always went something like that.

"So you'll go off without a word whenever it can't be helped? Just like that time?" she asks him in the present time. Facing her is inevitable so he shifts up to find sapphire eyes studying his visage. Renji couldn't have been more wrong. They're penetrating eyes, incapable of dullness. "Training…strengthening your resolve…it was something you needed to do back then. I learned to understand it. But still…Yuzu cried for days."

"Rukia..." His throat feels tight and it remains hard to breathe.

Before he knows it she's arrived at his bedside. The bed emits a muffled creak against the bend of her knee. He feels her fists thrust awkwardly below his throat. Had he worn a shirt she would be clutching the collar. It's painful when her forehead presses onto his chest, but he'll bear it if she needs him to. "You come back like this—all torn up." Not knowing what else to do, Ichigo strokes the length of her black locks with a clumsy hand. "Ichigo, you idiot. You're all torn up again," is a mixture of warmth and breath on his bare skin.

"Ah, I know," he whispers against her hair, feeling Rukia's exertion not to tremble against his body. "You can cry if you want."

"Fool," she sputters between stifled quivers, "who wants to cry over you?" But she clutches onto him tighter when her body loses the fight. He simply holds her.

Ichigo has no idea how long they stay like that for, whether in hours or in minutes. It is out of whim when he breaks the silence. "Rukia, do you still see them?" He pauses meaningfully. "Hollows."

"Like blurs," Rukia answers without hesitation. She lifts her head and faces him wide-eyed. "But I can see Renji clearly."

"Oh." Somehow it makes sense—and doesn't. He looks out the window. "Any regrets?"

"Not for what I've chosen," she replies. "Though my goodbyes could have been better," she adds with a bitter laugh.

"Can't you say your goodbyes again? Redo them?" he asks, now searching her face, yet somehow feeling bare himself.

Rukia contemplates the question, looks back into his eyes meaningfully. "Then it would become too final." He half gets it and half doesn't, which is probably something Rukia could've guessed herself, though she doesn't find it necessary to elaborate.

They say nothing more of their private battles.

She is still in his arms, so he keeps holding her.

For now, some things are okay left unsaid.

* * *

Things We Don't See Around Us—Interlude

Rukia is still in his arms, so he keeps holding her—buuuut this is Ichigo's life after all. Rude interruptions of his warmest moments are never surprising. Could almost be _expected _even.

"SHTOOPIDPHWROOTWHAPHABYOODUNTOMEEFAN?"

When Ichigo hears that absurdly familiar screech coming from behind them, he freezes. In fact, Rukia too turns petrified as stone next to him.

Only, it is Karin who steps in from the other side of the curtains.

Still, there's something very wrong with the picture here. Wearing a scowl that could rival his own, Karin produces a pink object from her knapsack and holds it out in front of her disdainfully. It immediately wiggles out of her clutch and head dives for the bed to give Ichigo a nice, sharp kick to the face, complete with squeaky sounds.

"STUPID FRUIT, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO NEE-SAN?"

"The hell is this?" He grabs a fistful of it, and notes while leaning in, a pair of black, marble-like eyes gleaming back at him. In a matter of seconds his eyes construct long floppy ears characteristic of a rabbit in addition to two front limbs, and two hind legs. For a belly it has a pooch. "A talking—"

"Plush bunny!" Rukia practically shrieks.

Swinging its hind legs, the small sized doll is able to achieve momentum and free itself, its choice of destination apparently Rukia's arms. "Nee-san!"

From behind Ichigo snatches it before it can reach her. "Don't tell me…" He spins the toy around to face him. "Kon?"

"Let me go! I have no time to play with you! I need to be embraced by Nee-san's newly developed bosom!" Attempting to loosen his ears from Ichigo's grip, the doll, now identified as Kon, thrashes wildly like a frenzy of pink. It requires a sudden whack on the head from Ichigo for his plush body to finally slump down to the bed.

While keeping one of the ears pinned down to the bed, Ichigo gives his younger sister a puzzled look. "Karin, where d'ya find him?"

"He just followed me home." His teenage sister shrugs her shoulders as if to illustrate her indifference.

"Kon," sighs Ichigo. Finding the ears ridiculous, Ichigo flicks the unpinned one with his fingers. "Should I even ask?"

"How rude! It's all for Nee-san," Kon spurts. "Nee-san, I devote my new rabbit form to you."

"No thanks. I pass." Rukia holds up a hand with palm facing out to demonstrate her refusal.

"What are you saying, Nee-san? After I've come all this way!"

And turning an inquisitive brow on the mod-soul, Ichigo asks "What are you doing here, Kon? Aren't you supposed to be traveling with Urahara-san?"

"Huh?" asks Kon, finally done with thrashing and deciding to give Ichigo the full attention of his beady eyes. "Yeah. We're only making a quick stop here."

"Urahara-san is back? And Yoruichi-san too?" Suddenly remembering the old days causes Ichigo's heart to beat excitedly.

"Naturally." Kon says between a yawn. Ichigo can't help but deliver another smack down on top of Kon's head. "Arggggh! You bastard, what was that for?"

"For your attitude," Ichigo supplies.

"Geez. You still have a brain the size—oh, that's right!" The pesky thing is back on its feet again, rudely standing on Ichigo chest and jabbing its paw at his nose. "You lecherous wolf! How dare you get Nee-san knocked up! You forced yourself on her, didn't you?"

"Y-you-you!" Dear God he feels his insides twisting up again.

"Wanna be exterminated, Modsoul?" Rukia threatens, no hint of blushing whatsoever.

"No," Kon squeaks and covers his mouth like he doesn't trust what else may come out of it. "I'll be good now, Nee-san," is squeezed out in a terrified whisper.

"Get a hold of yourself, Ichi-Nii. You're as bright as a tomato."

"S-shut up," Ichigo musters between hacking and coughing.

"Anyhow," says Rukia, easily concluding the subject of lewd acts and whatnot. The one hundred plus years she has on her husband helps oftentimes. "Are Urahara and everybody else doing well?"

"Neeee-san. You dooo care about me after all. So much happened..." Whatever Kon begins to ramble about loses importance to the sound of the front door opening.

"Onii-chan! I brought dinner from the deli." Ichigo, Rukia, and Karin—all exchange horrified looks with one another. Yuzu!

"Quick, Karin!" Ichigo wheezes. Not long after he calls out to Karin, he feels his heart leap through his chest as the stretch of curtains is yanked open and his other sister appears before them in a moderate, plaid dress. Luckily Karin manages to stuff Kon back into her knapsack just before he can be discovered.

Yuzu blinks a couple of times in an effort to shake off her confusion. "Eh? Everyone is here."

Rukia, the first to react, immediately leaps for the plastic bags in Yuzu's hands. "I'll help you with these, Yuzu-chan."

Roused from her partial stupor she replies, "Uh, thanks. Rukia-chan," but by then Rukia, who almost looks disappointed when she finds the inside contents of the grocery bags to be mostly filled with vegetables, isn't listening. "Onii-chan," she addresses Ichigo, "dad said this morning that it's safe for you to move out of bed. As long as you do it carefully. I'll help get you to the dining room so you can eat with everybody else."

"Ah. Fine," he manages to say without sounding nervous.

"And—" Yuzu tries to begin.

"Ooomffrm"

"Eh? Karin-chan? Your bag just made a funny sound."

"No it didn't"

"Yes it—" Karin pushing Yuzu forward cuts her off once again.

"Soooo huungry." Groans the dark-haired twin, ignoring the other's bewildered expression. "Hope dad doesn't take too long to get back."

Fortunately, Yuzu is easily distracted. "Hm? Shouldn't be too long. He told me he'll be home soon over the phone."

"Like he ever means what he says," Karin retorts, rolling her eyes the way only teenagers know how.

"Nii-chan, don't you dare try to move on your own," admonishes Yuzu from over her shoulder.

"I'm hungry, Yuzu."

"Be a little patient Karin-chan." Casting another look his way, Yuzu finishes, "I'll be back to help you up once I put everything away."

"Ah. That—that's great." He sees the peculiar look Yuzu returns him. Probably to save him again from being grilled with questions, Karin pushes their sister through the door with her.

* * *

"Henry?"

"No."

"Georg—"

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"Bu—"

"NO!"

His father plops himself on the edge of the bed. He crosses his legs and tugs at his chin in comical seriousness. "So a Japanese name then?"

"N—yes, Japanese. WHICH I WILL PICK."

"Wait! Don't I have rights as the grandfather?"

"Rights my foot." Out of boredom and annoyance, Ichigo taps his face with bandaged fingers. Beyond the room's windowpanes he sees the stout clouds from yesterday have thinned out to feathers whisking across the expansive sky. "You already had your fun with my name. Like I'd let you do that to my own kid."

"What?" His father wedges his face between Ichigo and his scenery, replacing the calming view with his dumb expression. "You dare insult the name your mother and I so lovingly chose for you?" he half pouts half growls. "How ungrateful!"

"Would you both shut your traps already?" Kon's pink head can be seen peering over an untucked table drawer. "Why aren't we leaving yet?"

Ichigo's old man plants his rear back on the bed. He jerks a thumb over in Kon's direction. "Still can't get used to that."

"No kidding." Ichigo scowls at Isshin as best as he can, knowing he can't guilt but—_maybe_, _just maybe_—can burn his father with acrid looks. "You've only seen him like this since he got here yesterday. Try thinking your old man's a regular idiot for 16 years and then finding out he's just a good liar. Or maybe both. Anyway, try getting used to that."

"Well, shoulda figured that black always did look better on me than white." He spreads his arms out above his head, before he folds them behind and yawns out the remainder of his response. "Anyhow ya live and learn, kid."

Their exchanges of wisdom comes to a halt when, "Keep it down you morons! Yuzu might hear us," is hissed at them. Karin appears a few steps ahead of Rukia.

"You got everything, Rukia?" Ichigo shouts atop Kon's wailing, "Don't group me with those demented two!" and his father's "Karin-chan, you're such a meanie!"

Rukia barely nods at him with her eyes glued on Karin deadpanning Kon.

"When I said moron, I was mostly referring to you," Karin shoots to the doll hanging over the side of the drawer.

"Sheesh. Shouldn't you be in a better mood? I thought girls your age are supposed to be glowing after their fir—oomphfff!" For whatever Kon is about to blab, Karin seems to find it necessary to yank him out of the drawer and stuff him into the backpack. She also makes sure to zip it all the way down.

"What is this about ab—" Ichigo ditches the last words like deadweights when he sees Karin give the bag a good thump against the wall.

"NOTHING," barks Karin over Kon's muffled screaming. She smiles a fake smile, the kind that shows all her teeth, effectively sending chills up big bro's spine. "Here's your bag Ichi-nii."

Karin is practically at the door when his hands touch the straps. It makes him wonder if the number of Kurosaki members who now know how to Shyunpo are up to three. "I'm off," she announces before anyone else can squeeze in another word, leaving them to stare after her with nearly gaping mouths.

Yuzu—dubbed the innocent one of the family—finds them still spacing out at the door when she enters the clinic from the other side. "Karin-chan? Where is Karin-chan? She left her books here. Eh? Did she leave for study group already?"

Her query may as well been directed at a wall. "Very suspicious," Rukia, Ichigo and Isshin decide in unison.

"Otou-san? Nii-chan?" Poor little Yuzu's head bobs back and forth from trying to decipher each of their expressions, like a mother bird frantically choosing which chick to feed her last worm to. "Rukia-chan, what's suspicious?"

Per usual his nutcase of a father breaks into a theatrical performance. "Karin-chan is out kissing boys behind daddy's back!" he cries amidst artificial tears and sobs.

"Otou-san! How did ever you get that idea? Please stop crying!"

At this point Ichigo decides to give telepathic communication a shot. And with luck on his side for once, Rukia returns his precarious look with a nod. She manages to spit, "Thanksfortakingcareofus," before Ichigo whisks her out the door mid-bow.

* * *

A block away from the clinic Kon manages to unzip himself from the knapsack on Rukia's back. Sticking his head out he begins firing complaints. "Damn your sister, Ichigo! Why'd she have to be such a brute?"

"So why are we letting Kon stay with us again?" asks Ichigo, completely ignoring Kon's whine. For whatever reason though, he can't remove his eyes off of Kon who is straightening out the wrinkles on his lengthy ear.

Rukia pauses in the middle of the sidewalk and crosses her arms. "I figured Urahara might need a break," she says thoughtfully.

"Ah. True," Ichigo concurs, crossing his arms too, but carefully (everything still hurts). "Anyone stuck with this guy for three years straight would definitely need a break." He directs his next words at imitational Chappy. "So Kon. Do you know what's up with Karin?"

"Huh—wha?" Kon mutters, still preoccupied with straightening his ears. "You're asking me about your own sister? Haven't you been paying attention?"

"You gonna answer the question or not?" He furrows his orange brows at the unpleasant thought of having this loudmouth around for a few more days.

"Pft. You're so dense I'm not gonna even bother explaining to you. Go to the big playground and you can see for yourself."

Can the bastard be any more vague? "Big playground? Which one?" Ichigo asks through teeth.

"The one with all the cheery trees."

"The viewing spot, Kon?"

"Yeah. That one."

"What is it we're going to see?"

"You'll see."

Ichigo feels a muscle convulse. "Like I said---ah forget it! Okay, let's go then."

"Wait, Ichigo," Rukia yells. Ichigo has already gained a few steps away from where they stood just moments ago. "Are you sure we should be spying?"

He looks at his wife like she's crazy. "Not considered spying 'til you know what it is you're spying for. Well, you coming or what?" He doesn't even wait for her answer before he hurries off.

Rukia frowns at his retreating back. "Only an idiot could reason like that," and she takes off after him nevertheless.

* * *

Orange burns at the distant horizon. A sea of barren branches spread out below, its skeletal arms reaching towards the fiery skyline. The three stop behind the big slide (essentially metal and plastic slapped together), and peer out to the plot of cheery trees thickly bordering the park's edges. It takes awhile for him to spot them sitting amongst the rows of stark brown trees, but when he does he realizes how the last few years must have passed as easily as the blink of an eye.

What did he miss while he had his head turned?

"So the boy is," he hears Rukia say, a hint of understanding sinking into her voice. He can feel her turning a furtive gaze towards him.

"Not a boy at all," he finishes his wife's thought.

Karin's hair has grown longer, hitting a little past the shoulders; she's gotten farther from looking like a tomboy. He hadn't noticed till now. Karin probably wants it that way. She'll never admit to caring about her appearance like the other girls in her class do.

"That really is Chad," Ichigo finally adds to the thought.

For this scenario to come up as an astonishment—has he been looking the other way for too long?

"Pffft. They're just sitting there...what kind of date is that?" interjects Kon.

"Karin appears to be drawing him." Rukia says it in the manner of a person trying to console another.

It's true that the two are only sitting there. But there is more than just his younger sister—her fifteen years of age more jarringly obvious now—sketching a picture of his good, longtime friend. The glances Karin casts Chad's way are too apprehensive for the fear of drawing him poorly in her sketch. Even Chad seems to be stealing glances when he thinks Karin isn't looking. Ichigo realizes he won't be able to see Karin as the same kid sister again—the one whose words are always truthful beneath the bite.

Feeling like he's been tricked, Ichigo shoots Kon a look that could hopefully kill. The mod soul looks back uninterested. Damn.

"Walk into walls much?" comments Kon, who busies himself again in examining his generous span of ears against the paling light. "Pfft. If you're surprised by this then you're really not much of an older brother. Pay more attention to those around you, why don't ya?"

"I'll turn you into a scarecrow if you say any more."

Chad is a mass of gentleness and strength sitting on a bed of russet leaves two meters away from Karin's bench.

Karin's still built like a twig.

No matter how hard he looks at them, they just don't seem to match up at all. Together they look as awkward as a tiger and mouse.

But he knows those are insignificant details. No more significant than a human falling in love with a Shinigami.

He stands by watching till daylight grows lower and slanted. He hears his wife stirring beside him and decides that he's done pondering the things he's unprepared to ponder. "It's getting late," he nudges.

"So we'll leave things like this then?" She's smiling in a way that tells him she already knows the answer.

"Ah."

"We're leaving already? What about…" He ignores the rest of Kon's yammering and casts Karin and Chad one last look before turning around.

From the bottom of his heart he gives them the fullest of his blessings.

* * *

Isshin takes the last drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out beneath his perfectly polished shoe. True, he quit smoking years ago but hey, what the hell. For all the brain cells he's been busting—damn that pain-in-the-ass firstborn—he's entitled a break every now and then.

Besides, there's a bad taste in his mouth he can't get rid of. Blame it on the increasing amount of vacant staring his orange-headed son has been doing these past few months. The way he's seen Rukia-chan lose sleep over his son's stitched up body doesn't help much either.

"The problem with you kids is you keep second guessing yourselves," exhales Isshin with the final puff. "Too high-strung for your own good sometimes."

He turns back to the house, but only to find himself thinking about Karin before he reaches the door.

Karin.

He's not ready to worry about her falling in love yet, though there's probably not much he can do about it now. Except maybe annoy her some more.

Ah, hell. Why not? Isshin fishes the cigarette pack back out of his coat pocket.

Having two troublesome brats—he deserves at least another smoke.

Lighting the end of the stick, he thanks god at least the third kid's an easy one.

_End Chapter Seven

* * *

_

_AN: I don't think writers are ever happy with their stuff. At least that's the feeling I'm getting now. Particularly the sections laden with dialogue. It reads too much like a script. God knows how many different drafts I've done already for this. Who knows, maybe in a week I'll completely revise this chapter again. It always reads differently with time, doesn't it?_

_Hopefully there won't be as long as an absence for the next update, though I can't promise that it'll be posted soon. Part of the next chapter has been written out, though not much. It features a certain noble Kuchiki and should get back on track with the story (unlike this one which I consider an interlude). Until then, cheers and thanks as always!_

_---Jun 4, 2006_

_---June 15, 2006 Reposted_


	8. Blend Into the Morning

Ch 8. Blend into the Morning

* * *

Sometimes even Ichigo can admit that he's slow, because realization doesn't hit him till the middle of the night, when the whole world's asleep. And when it hit him, it hit hard, just about knocking the wind out of him. 

There is no one to express his newfound and inconveniently delayed shock to. Only the alarm clock answers back gleaming red in the dark room.

He folds his arms behind his head, divulging both hands into the dense pillow. He tosses, turns to each side twice, pillow practically cushioned _into_ his ears, before settling his head back against the bed. A quick sigh is exhaled. His eyes take up surveying the indistinct shapes in the room.

He is bringing a kid into this world. He, Ichigo, nineteen years old, naïve and brash, is bringing a kid into this world.

Next to him Rukia sleeps easily, her stirs of breath light against the pillow. This gets him slightly perturbed. Why does she get to sleep so soundly when he's wide awake? Is it really as they say? That pregnancy is hardest on the mother? Never mind the back aches, food cravings and crap like that. The fathers' troubles are being overlooked here. After all, aren't fathers the ones who'll be sent scurrying to the convenient store in the late of night, amongst other things, to accommodate those sudden and ridiculous needs to wolf down ice cream and pickles _together_?

Now considering his and Rukia's backwards relationship, it would come as no surprise if, by some ill joke, even the inevitable morning sicknesses were to be experienced by him, the father…alone! He's sure Rukia would do much better than him in any case!

Of course, it'd only mean that the world's alright when these are the only things left to worry about.

He turns to study her sleeping face, making out what he can in the dark.

The peaceful expression he wants to see isn't there.

Turning the other way puts him back to face the clock. Ten past four it glares. When he finally drifts off, a troubling dream is quick to come.

_Ichigo dreams of rapidly falling snow, of a place with ice-capped mountains and cedars, and a solitary figure in the midst of that pallid landscape. Closer up, the figure turns into a woman clad in white, with blanched, butterfly sleeves and snowy colored hair to the waist. She stands tall, back to Ichigo, shoulders thin but sturdy enough to carry the burdens of this icy realm. _

"_This place is..."_

_The woman turns her head. Feral, maroon orbs light up against cold, ivory flesh. "You already know where this is," full red lips seem to accuse. Her voice is clear and cuts through bustling winds. _

"_Then you are..." _

"_That," she emphasizes, "that, you already know also." _

_The landscape carved around them is as beautiful as it is cruel. In all directions, the snow covered terrain stretches out with no end in sight. Even beyond the visible mountains there would seem to be more mountains._

"_Sode no..." _

"_Shirayuki," she finishes for him._

"_Heh. So this is the kind of thing Rukia sees," he beams._

"_Idle conversation is needless," the other interjects. "Don't assume you are being welcomed here." _

_The smile dies from his lips. An interim of silence is allowed. He narrows his eyes. "This type of setting fits your personality, doesn't it, Sode no Shirayuki?"_

"_The cold preserves me," she retorts. The ends of her thick, silver hair flit pompously in the wind._

"_That's fine with me. Now that we've met, I'd rather not stay. Mind telling me where the exit is?"_

"_Callous man."_

"_Well that's good and all, since I don't really care. Anyway, about the exit? Where is it?"_

"_You're the reason for everything."_

"_Everything? What's this everything I'm being blamed for?"_

"_You've turned her into a disastrous sort of woman. One who abandons everything. Her sense of self included. All for a single, stupid man." _

_He clenches his fists. "I'll ask slowly this time…"_

"The fucking exit, where is it?"

"Ichigo? What's wrong?"

His eyes jerk open to find the white of that snowy landscape gone. The surrounding darkness his eyes remembered before closing seems to have also acquiesced to dawn.

"What is it, Ichigo?" He hears his wife ask again.

"You weren't asleep?" he overrides her question with his own. Once upright, he turns his head only slightly her way.

"Because I heard you—"

"Sorry."

"A bad dream?"

"Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep"

Contrary to his suggestion, she sits up with him in bed. "It's already light outside," she says looking out the split between the curtains.

He's taken aback by her little reluctance to rising too early in the morning. "You're not tired anymore, Rukia?"

"No." The covers on the side of her bed get flipped; moments later the curtains are drawn open and her front side is illuminated pink. "So pretty," she praises the outside world. "We miss this sort of scene countless times without even realizing it."

At that, the chattering of worries in his head simply stops.

She says things like that without knowing how endearing it makes her.

Laughably, there once were days they would have deemed such a statement dangerous. In fact, any exchange of words was considered risky. A single word could undoubtedly be followed by a single look, and then alas, something would ignite! For example, she could at one minute be explaining her obscured view of how a stinkin' cloud resembles a half-bitten strawberry (nothing remotely close to being a sexy topic), and at the next minute he'd be pouncing on her!

Avoiding each other altogether became the next best strategy (that, of course, failed too). Those were some long, painful days.

Completely grateful now, he easily gives up the bed's warmth and endures the chill of hardwood floor to join her side.

"Rukia?"

"What is it?"

"What does Sode no Shirayuki look like?"

"Like looking at the most beautiful landscape, somehow. But. It's the image of her hair that's engrained into my mind. Smooth, long and dark as midnight. Kind of a mystery."

"Black hair, huh?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, was just curious."

"She can also be a little difficult though." Rukia laughed softly.

"I see."

They go back to watching the sun shimmer over the horizon, its domain spreading steadily. They watch the floating pastel clouds. They watch the skyline deepen from pink to purple, then burn red to orange. Together they watch until the entire world is lit gold.

Sunlight is fierce on their faces at the height of morning's ascent. He brings her burning cheeks into his hands and she complies by leaning in. Without breaking their kiss, they amble back to bed.

Afterwards, for the short while they fall back asleep, he allows himself a peaceful dream, of a different morning long ago, on that little green hill with the large clouds moving fast above it.

* * *

_They've gone and crossed the line. There was no turning back. Definitely no way now._

_The hardest part was facing each other. She was awake; he knew for sure. He didn't need to see to confirm it. There was no mistake in the feeling of sound consciousness on the other half of the bed. _

_And now with their backs to one another, shoulders stiff from fear of touching, the two of them were just putting off what had already begun to appear. _

_Sunlight that streamed in soft and gentle would soon become harsh and glaring. _

_They couldn't deny that day had arrived, the same way they couldn't remain staring the other way forever. _

"_It's morning," he said hoarsely. There was silence on her part. After a while he began to wonder if Rukia might try to ignore him indefinitely. _

"_I could tell without your informing me," she finally quipped, much to his relief. Then he felt the bed covers being lifted, causing him to turn around without thinking. _

_He caught glimpse of her bare back. "Look the other way," she commanded. _

"_Oh-sorry." It annoyed him how little control he had over the way his face burned up. _

"_My," Rukia started, but the rest seemed to blend into thin air. _

"_What is it," he said, still afraid to look her way._

"_My skirt. On your side of the—I think."_

_He gave no immediate reply. _

"_I can't reach it." _

_All he could do was stare at the gray, pleated skirt now sticking out obtusely on the floor near his bed._

"_My skirt. Don't make me say it again," she said weakly._

_When his brain finally caught up, all the reply he could manage was something like a grunt. For a bit, his oafish fingers fumbled over the cold, slightly damp fabric. He relinquished it to her as soon as it was in his hands. Without looking._

"_Thanks," she muttered. _

_Her clothes rustled as she put them on. Only when the sounds stopped did he dare look her way. This time it was she who couldn't look at him. "Ichigo," she began. _

"_I already know. Pretend this didn't happen, right?" He got up to dress himself. _

"_There isn't any other way," she said in a manner of regret._

"_Probably not. But," he said, unsure of what was propelling him forward now. "Come with me for a bit. There's a place," he paused at the burning of his face again. "I want to show you."_

"_A place you want to show me?"_

"_We should go before everyone else wakes up."_

"_But I don't understand. Why now—"_

"_You don't need to. Just listen to me this time, Rukia."_

_After the long hesitation she finally nodded. _

_Reaching the top of the hill she started to understand why he brought her there._

_At the peak of the green, rolling lands the sun cast warm, stray lights on them. More impressive, were the roaming piles of clouds the sun trickled through. The large, white bodies moved rapidly over them, causing light to flicker on and off of their faces._

_Yes, she understood exactly why he brought her there. She would get caught up in the beauty of this world. She would not like to relinquish this feeling of warmth on her skin. Her thoughts were only confirmed when she let him kiss her atop of that hill. _

_Yes, she knew. He would try to sway her. There was no intention on his part for going back to the way things were. _

* * *

_AN: Okay, so I tried my best to not look back at this chapter before submitting it in. It's a bit sloppy but damn it, I've got to update it sometime. Hard to believe it's been a year now. I've seriously written bits and pieces of this in the last 12 months and didn't get anywhere. I keep changing it, then would lose interest or didn't want to deal with it at all due to time or lack of motivation. But! As I have always said, I will never abandon this indefinitely. So thank you for sticking it out with me!_

_---Jun 16, 2007_


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